Mega Man X: The Sound of Mavericks
by Erico
Summary: A year after the events of EOAD, The Clock ticks down once more on chaos reborn...
1. Foreword For Newcomers

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

A FOREWORD: JUST SO YOU DON'T GET LOST!

Well, congrats! You had enough courage to risk clicking the hyperlink to another heapin' helpin' ever lovin' spoonful of Erico's mythos. And what does that mean? 

Hopefully you had the gumption to check out my first two 'Fics before taking on this one. Chronologically, it goes AUF, then EOAD, and lastly this one. If you didn't bother to at least read EOAD, then some of the stuff in here will be really fuzzy. If you did, then you're set!

I could ramble on and on, but I won't do that. I figure I do it enough in my posts, you're here to read the 'Fic.

So I'll set it up for you.

A year after EOAD occurs, concerns are based more on the Hunters than the mavericks. Which can be expected! With no sign of Sigma, or the Maverick Virus itself, things keep pretty quiet. Quiet enough for the biased humans to think, 'How many well armed reploid Maverick Hunters do we need to keep the peace?'

I quote George Carlin here. "After every tragedy, we're told, 'Now the healing can begin.' NO. There is no healing. Just a short pause until the next tragedy." Does this apply? In life and in video games, my friends. And definitely in this 'Fic.

Assumptions have been made over the years. 'Just who is the enemy?' 'Who is to blame for the Maverick Wars?' 'Who keeps getting hot dog to bun ratios all wrong?' 

It's time for a change. And as the heroes of the Fifth Maverick Uprising muddle through what seems to be a total mess of things, they will find the single thread of sanity that will give them the answer to this puzzle.

All assumptions and beliefs will change for X and friends. Who is the enemy? What is a maverick? How can you tell a maverick? It's actions? It's looks? Or it's sound?

Well, that's how you get the title for this next leap into the deep end of the pool, my friends. All things will change, for change is the only constant.

And in 'The Sound of Mavericks' this constant change is no different.

So, what are you still doing here? Read on, Macduff! Erico will be waiting for you at the end.


	2. Prologue

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

PROLOGUE

Just another routine mission for the Hunters. Another boring, easy going 'can't believe I get paid to do this' mission. 

A shot blasted the building overhead, and Bastion ducked down, using his wings for added protection as the rubble cascaded on his head. 

"Yeah, right." Bastion grumbled, raising his Powerstorm wings again. 

He was with Zero, in a joint operation for a change. The X-Buster half of the 21st had joined Zero's elite saber Unit #0 in what might be construed as desperation. But then, these were desperate times.

Amongst the aftermath of Sigma's final defeat, and the Fifth Maverick Uprising being quelled by the efforts of X, Zero, Bastion and Wycost, the Global Council had been examining the Hunters for disbandment. Crises would pop up from time to time as they would, but gone was the sheer dread of a massive uprising. Head nor tail-nor file-of Sigma had been seen for a full year, and keeping that many Hunters in operation was considered to be a danger, as well as a waste of money.

X was off in front of the council at this very moment, discussing the Hunter's survival with the council heads. Bastion wished he had it that easy.

Zero was also ducking down, but the glare in his eyes was a bit wilder. A wide grin of insanity was plastered across his mug as he held his saber carefully. Unlike the calm Bastion, Zero was a rash fighter, quick to the weapon and not to reason. But he was good at his job, and besides that, a good saber instructor.

Bastion gave a slight nod of his head to the superior reploid before glancing over. Their troops were giving heck, but the power they were putting out was very little in comparison to that the mavericks were using.

By some sheer plod of luck, the mavericks this time around were thinking straight, and had managed to break into a weapons depot close by. Now they were lumbering about in the safety of tanks and 'mechs, laughing their fool heads off and taking potshots at the pinned Hunters. Bastion shook his head, and his hair bounced softly.

"Not good, Zero. This is not good." Zero looked over and chuckled.

"Is it ever? Even if they aren't Sigma's, don't underestimate them. But I do agree with you that unless something's done soon, they'll have us surrounded." 

The rumbling tanks were evidence enough, and Zero chuckled. "Hey, clear away for a sec while I power up my Rakuhouha." Bastion grimaced.

"Geez, you aren't kidding." He whistled to his troops and motioned to Zero with a hand downthrust. The signal was quite clear, because the Rakuhouha was a trademark Zero move everyone knew about. Bastion had his own idea of a plan in mind, and he blasted up into the air.

The tanks stopped and began to raise their cannons, but Bastion saw them coming. He maneuvered in close with the Powerstorm's jet Thrusters and brought his saber to life. Hacking the barrels off, the plasma cannons became useless stumps of metal. Bastion laughed.

"Straight shot, like hacking duck's heads off in a row!" Now that the tanks were sitting ducks, Zero jumped out from behind cover and unleashed his own furious attack. He threw the energy pellet in a huge arc, aiming it directly between the twin tanks that threatened him. With Bastion clear of the blast, the tanks soon became riddled by the holes of the burning multiblast.

But even that wasn't all the foes. A bunch of 'Mechs were still on the loose, and the ones which scared Bastion the most were those blasted Hawks.

"A bloody fine idea giving those missiles. BLOODY FINE!" Bastion screamed. He continued to zoom in circles, but the pair of missiles were only drawing closer. He shut his eyes and realized that for once, a maverick had gotten the better of him. It had happened before, and then Wycost had saved his bacon. Too bad the green Hunter was still moping back at base with sentry duty.

But something else stopped the missile.

A falling individual hacked the missile in half, separating the warhead from the booster in one easy hack. Bastion landed safely and turned around, prepared to thank Zero.

Instead, he got to see a pair of reploids standing in blazing blue and yellow armor. One was taller than the other, but looked calmer. The short one twirled his saber around-not just any saber, but a DUAL SABER?! And the big one had a piece like that as well. How the devil did they manage to pull that trick off?

"Dang-who the heck are you guys?" The short one turned around and looked at Bastion very slowly, before smirking and shaking his head.

"Better than you, Hunter. Keeping in the air while those Hawks are operational is a bad move on your part. We have our own job to do, so scuze us, bub. Come on, bro!" As soon as they had appeared, the twin reploids dashed off away from Bastion, taking out a Hawk 'Mech as they went before finally warping to somewhere else. Zero plodded behind the shaken Bastion and nudged his shoulder. Bastion turned around.

"Who were they?" Zero shrugged disgustedly.

"Beats the heck outta me, but they're not new. They've popped up on a few of my missions as well, Bastion. My advice is to keep away from them. They're usually more trouble than assistance." Bastion nodded.

"Good advice." He fired off a shot from his Powerstorm's internal shrapnel pack, turning a nearby 'Mech into flaming scrap. "I think that's all of them." Zero looked around for a long moment before finally consenting to nodding his head.

"Yup. And no damage taken for once. To any of the troops." Bastion grumbled.

"Thank God for small blessings. You call into HQ." Suddenly, one of Bastion's Buster troops by the name of Horace piped up from beyond the crumbling buildings and smoking tanks.

"Hey, Bastion! I think you better get over here." Bastion frowned, but dashed off in pursuit of Horace's voice. He stopped dead when he reached there. 

Horace was leaning over a figure who lay almost dead, but Horace nodded.

"Reploid, boss. And still breathing." Bastion drew in a breath. It was no ordinary reploid. This reploid had little exterior damage, but the wear and pain on her face-

It was too much to bear. Bastion gingerly reached down and picked her up. The pink and neon blue colored vixen didn't groan or anything, but she was light in Bastion's arms. Her face, perhaps the most angelic he had ever seen seemed to scream out of torture, even in stasis. It haunted him.

Bastion looked over at Horace, who shrugged.

"Beats me, boss. I just found her here. Most likely she got scared stiff when the shooting started." Bastion lifted her up higher.

"Yeah-makes sense. With her weight and framework, she wasn't exactly built to fight, was she?" Bastion knocked the dreamy stare off of his face and shook his head.

"Well, come on then. We'd best get back to base. Hazil should take a look at this one."

The joint unit vanished into the sky, their warp trails all too evident, leaving behind the small battleground.

Oh, yeah.

Just another mission for the Hunters.

How wrong that would turn out to be.


	3. A Recap of Boredom

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER ONE: A RECAP OF BOREDOM

"Councilor, I don't believe you fully understand the severity this action could bring." X said calmly, even though the inner fire of his eyes burned brightly. Standing in front of the 125 Delegates from all over earth's respective countries in the Global Defense Council, X seemed all alone and swallowed by darkness. He tried not to let the intimidation show.

The person he was addressing was Emilius Cristoph, the emissary from the North AmeriCanadian alliance. The man stared through his glasses and frowned, brushing back his bushy white hair.

"Oh, quite to the contrary, commander. I know full well the role you Hunters serve, as do my other colleagues. But look at the evidence! It has been close to a full year now since your Hunters put an end to Sigma underneath New Tokyo. The majority of the threat is gone." X blinked at that, forming his mouth for a retort. Cristoph cut him short with a snappy quip.

"Yes, we all know of the various maverick skirmishes that have emerged sporadically. But they are small threats, and ones that can be dealt with much more efficiently by a smaller force. We have no need of a large group of Hunters whereas 3 elite Units or so would do just as well. The age of Sigma is gone, Commander X. The age of the maverick rebellions are past us."

Boy, that made X laugh inside. Outside, he managed to keep an air of stoic seriousness. The age of Sigma would never end as long as there were mavericks. Sigma WAS the mavericks. Only after the latest Uprising, the mavericks showed no sign of infection. That was the only lucky point of it, but the assumption made by Cristoph was wrong.

A maverick is as deadly as ever, even if it is not infected. X shrugged at last.

"So it seems we have reached an impass, Mr. Cristoph. Your views are different from mine." Cristoph folded his arms and glared.

"As I would expect them to be. X, as a reploid-"

"I am not a reploid." X spat out, stopping Cristoph dead in his tracks. The truth was, X wasn't. He was the model by which all reploids were created. Cristoph smiled and took off his glasses, taking on the glowish charm of a man past his prime.

"Of course. You must forgive my old mind." Chuckles went through the room, but did little to break the terse mood. X was outnumbered, outgunned, and there was no support.

The majority of people in the Global Defense Council were anti-reploid. Haters of the race they had willingly created, and were unable to see as equal beings. It disgusted X to see a race that considered itself to be so much more civilized still held hate views.

First, the Jews. Then the blacks. Now, it was reploids. Only the target had changed.

X decided he couldn't take any more.

"If you all will excuse me, I must return to my duties. Cain is also expecting a report on these hearings." Cristoph nodded slowly.

"Of course. We await your return, Commander. Until then, this session is under recess until tomorrow at 8 sharp." The leader of the Council rapped his gavel, and X sighed, succumbing to the warp trails as he shot out of the roof like it didn't exist.

The arrival back at his home of the Maverick HHQ was unceremonious. It was oddly quiet, save for a few transports coming into the hangar, and only Wycost stood at guard.

Wycost, the angry green Hunter, the one individual who had shown X it was possible to overcome the Maverick Virus infection. In Wycost, there had been a volcano. An inner fire that glowed brightly with the suffering Wycost had felt.

Wycost was your genuine New Yorker. Tough, hardy, didn't take any guff from anyone. And during the Fifth Maverick Uprising, Wycost had joined up in a flash of skill that even X would have a tough time matching. Keeping a helmet spinning in the air by plasma fire alone was something that would have taken X forever. But the quiet, angry Wycost had kept it going for a full 15 seconds. And aside from the black streak down his right arm and his Buster, he looked no different from any other reploid.

Now, Wycost stood at semi-attention. But there was something different about him now. The anger was gone, and Wycost had succumbed to moping. With Sigma gone and his penance paid, Wycost seemed as deflated as a helium balloon with a hole in it.

"Hey Wycost, why the long face?" X asked. Wycost raised his eyes and shrugged, still having the glum expression on.

"I got left behind on this mission, X. Do you know how that ticks me off?" X put his hands to his sides and pondered.

"Well, I'm kinda happy when I don't have to go off and slaughter mavericks, but whatever lights your fire. You're like Zero-you hate peacetime." Wycost shook his head.

"It's not just that, X. I still feel like I let all my friends down." X's eyes softened.

"The ones who died during Nitro Narwhal's rampage." Wycost nodded, pulling down his goggles. The goggles were actually his control chip covers, which were able to slide down inside of his helmet and form protective eyewear. 

"Yeah, them. Even though I stopped Sigma, and we haven't seen him, I still feel like they're staring at me for some kind of sacrifice." X brooded over it for a minute, then gently put an arm on Wycost's shoulder.

"Don't let it get you down. If there's one thing about this job Wycost, it's that the answers always come to you right when you want them. Just relax and take it easy." X smiled, but he wasn't smiling inside.

With all the talks of disbanding the majority of the Hunters, how would Wycost respond when he heard about his request being shot down?

A request which X himself had to veto.

"Fighting with a beam saber is not like blasting off a cannon, troops!" Zero barked at the new recruits who looked about sheepishly. "With an X-Buster, it's fire and go. Works in some cases, but not all. You can't expect your Buster to make your job easy. And remember; the people on the receiving end have weapons that are just as, if not more, powerful than your own little popgun."

In the training rooms of Maverick HHQ, Zero was once again doing his least favorite thing; teaching others to perform a job he liked to tackle by himself. This newest batch would eventually be sifted into 4 areas; the 3 elites of the 17th, #00, or the rising star lead by Bastion, the 21st. The last group was the lesser Hunter Units, comprised of those who lacked more than a few points off of excellent or thought being a Hunter was a part time job. With his saber raised and turned on, Zero decided it was time to emphasize a point.

"Watch and learn, all. See that target over yonder?" He pointed to a Buster target on the far end of the field. Eagerly, the newbies watched with interest, although some hummed in feigned ignorance.

Zero morphed his other arm into his Buster and fired a shot. The white hot plasma blob soared along through the air, at last striking the target dead center. Cheers arose, but Zero cracked a smile.

"Think that was it, eh? Prime your cannons, boys. Time to see if you have what it takes in real life. Shuffle into the holographic chamber-" Zero licked his lips happily.

"It's time to play ball."

Once they'd made it inside the room and Zero had set the final calibrations with the master computer, the lights went off and pitch blackness absorbed them.

It frightened some of the new Hunters, but a bark from Zero quieted them down. And then the computer spoke.

"Simulation profile verified. Maverick Hunter Uprising, June 4th. Threat; severe. Enemy weapons set to semi-kill." That made Zero smile, a thin grin curling up on his lips. Any shots or blows the Hunters got by the semi-solid holograms would be felt, but not quite at full power. A normal plasma blast askew would cause great pain, getting run over would knock you out-and being charged at by the holographic boss Vile in his walker 'Mech would give you a 3 day pass to lullaby land and a trip to Hazil's Medical Bay.

Then, the air shifted around them, and holographic skies filled the ring. This was where the fun was, Zero thought. Ruined highway roads filled the room, but only one gave the direct path along destruction.

In reality, this event took place many years ago, and the person who had run the gauntlet had been the infuriated, yet bumbling X. Only Zero had saved the fresh Hunter from certain death at Vile's squeezing hand. 

"And now, I get to play hero for these hotshots." Zero chuckled. He didn't like speaking, but as a man of action, he enjoyed romps like this. 

The Hunters took off along the road, firing as they went. What they didn't know was that they were hardly moving at all. Rather, micro-graviton control wells embedded in the floor allowed for realistic movement in the holographic field. Holographic technology had evolved much in the last hundred years, and this was top of the line.

Of course, there was always some concern these holographic simulations would be too real, that a person or reploid might be in a simulation and might mistake it for real life. It made for excellent training with the Hunters, but always so there would be some tag of sanity, all one would need to do was click their fingers and an interface would appear in front of their eyes with several options, such as 'Get me the heck outta here!'

Their progress was average. But Zero noted that none of them were working in tandem or groups, just by themselves. 

"Bad news for them later on." Zero grumbled. If they were to ever make it, they would have to realize that in situations such as the one X faced on that night, it was best to work as a team. Worse, their sabers dangled uselessly at their sides. Zero frowned at that, but even more when he heard a dialogue exchange between two reploid rookies.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, bub." The small catlike reploid yowled, pulling its tail from the torturing foot of the humanoid beside him. The humanoid sneered.

"Watch it for me, feraloid." Zero clicked his teeth together. Those two would be getting screamed at later.

Luckily, a comm call buzzed in his ear, sparing him from further sights of embarassment. Tapping the side of his helmet, he quietly spoke.

"Zero here. If you ain't a friend, hang up now." 

"Aw, shoot. I hoped I had gotten your answering machine!" Hazil snickered. Zero rolled his eyes. The doctor was calling again.

"Whaddya want, Mac?" Zero sighed. He referred to Mac from The Jetsons, the robot on wheels with a vertical file for a body. Hazil hated the connection terribly, and Zero was in a foul mood so far. Might as well level the playing field.

"Zero, if you call me that ONE MORE TIME!" Hazil screamed angrily. Zero's eyes glimmered faintly with a flash of a chuckle.

"Fine, fine. What can I do for you, Hazil?" Hazil took a deep breath and calmed down, but it was difficult.

"Tough enough I gotta take crap from every sweaty human who walks in, I don't need the best reploids in the business cracking jokes at my expense. Anyhoo my Crimson Friend, I was calling to say your medical report came back in." Zero's semi-smile vanished.

"And?" Hazil chuckled.

"All in the green, my friend. The original estimate made by me that the last traces of the Maverick Virus in you would vanish has proved to be true. You're mean, on the scene, in the green-and you're clean." Zero sighed in relief.

"Looks like I'll be keeping my job then." Hazil whistled thoughtfully.

"Lucky you, Zero. You owe me big. Hell, you owe ALL of us big for covering your bum. Even that old coot friend of X's-what was his name?" Zero thought for a moment.

"Cossack?" 

"Yeah, thatsit. Cossack. You're gonna have to thank him for keeping that blasted cure long enough."

Doctor Cossack, a long time friend of the dead Doctor Light, and now X's close and personal buddy in Russia, had kept the mangled body of Rock as well as Light's final capsule in his Citadel. When X had come seeking answers, the Russian scientist put it out on the table and cleared up the new Blue Bomber's midlife crisis. He'd then turned around and given X a possible cure for the Maverick Virus, which was used by X to heal Zero. And in the end, X had had to fight the Virus within himself, and pull off an internal deletion.

Of course, that was a year ago, during the last day of the Fifth Maverick Uprising. Cain had taken the cooked up story made by X and Hazil, which was supported by Wycost and Bastion in turn. Cain had reneged on removing Zero from the Hunters because of his dark past, and everyone was happy again.

And now Zero was training newbies. Oh, well. It had perks. He got to be angry a lot of the time, which was his favorite mood in the first place.

"I'll remember to give you all boxes of candy on Christmas." Zero chuckled. He could almost picture Hazil cocking a finger and winking.

"You do that. In the meantime, X is back from his session. I think the guy is gonna need a perk up party today." Zero frowned.

"Those high and mighty buggers on the Defense Council still thinking of messing with us?" Hazil sighed.

"I'm afraid so. If anyone survived the cut, it would be your Unit, the 17th and the 21st. The best of the Hunters." Zero drew his hand over his face, blowing his lips angrily.

"If they're gonna hack the arm off, might as well blast off the feet." Hazil grunted.

"A metaphor, from you? Man, you're taking this seriously." Zero's eyes blazed for a moment, his inner emotions escaping the cool exterior.

"Deadly serious, Hazil. Deadly serious." Zero flipped the comm channel off and shook his head.

If things got any worse, any maverick that got lucky would be able to finish them off. And Zero hated terrible odds like that. Last time things were this rough, he ended up blowing himself to bits to save X. "That's one thing I'd rather not repeat." Zero winced.

Clearing his mind, he looked on ahead. The jumble of Hunters had been sheared in half by the roving Crushers and Ball De Vouxs. The ones missing from his active tally were seen soon enough, KO'd and in auto stasis from the blows. Zero shook his head and dashed on ahead.

"This is where we separate the hotshots from the Hunters." Jumping over a huge hole in the road, Zero was pleased to note the holographic Bee Blader below had been hit with precision blows at the rotor and sight turret. Obviously, the survivors had smarts in their skulls.

Moving on ahead, he finally decided to hack into the holo-training room's mikes. And he could hear the trainees talking. 

"Watch it, Jad!"

"I see him, Kol. Another Crusher. Gah!"

"You two all right?"

"Sure thing, Gavin. Next time, take out the base. Otherwise, those things like to crash on us." 

Only three trainees left: Jad, Kol, and Gavin, who seemed to be at the moment playing backup duty, blowing away the unexpected surprises that popped up. At least they were working like a team, which made Zero happy. First rule of Hunting: If you're not alone, working in a group is critical to success.

"Only bad thing is they're not using the sabers." Zero shook his head. X had taken on this assortment of dangers with less power than they were using-it was still bad practice. When you took out a target, you didn't pussyfoot. You took it down hard, fast, and without any chance for a comeback shot in your posterior.

"They'll figure out that lesson soon enough. I think they're about-"

"Gavin! Ship up ahead! And it's dropping a 'Mech!" Zero chuckled.

"To Vile's place." Zero finished with a wry smile. Now he'd definitely have to catch up-

To save their bacon, if they weren't careful. 

"Watch it, he's making another pass!" Gavin shouted angrily. The giant 'Mech, piloted by the holographic image of Vile in the dark night boosted forward, an arm extended for a ramming shot. Kol jumped to the side to avoid the blow, releasing his plasma Supershot into the superstructure. But it did little to faze the highly tempered armor. Jad shook his head before dashing underneath the wide legs of the 'Mech to avoid being run over.

"Guys, the Busters aren't doing diddly squat! I think what Zero said was right. There are times a saber is better. And this might be one of them." Gavin looked over and nodded.

"Right you are, Jad. Pull 'em out and light 'em up, boys! Time to dice us up some fresh 'Mech." The three trainees reached behind their backs and pulled the sabers from their recharging sheathes. Flicking the switches on, they unleashed the coiled energy serpents to life. The blades hummed for a moment, filling the darkness with tinges of orange, green and yellow light. 

"Gavin, I'll go in low and take a slice at his left leg. Jad, you swing at his right. Gavin, you keep him distracted with plasma fire!" Kol shouted into the sky. The other two nodded in agreement, and Gavin kept his Buster formed.

Gavin fired, drawing the attention of the 'Mech to himself. Kol and Jad had dashed to the sides long before, avoiding the immediate attention of the 'Mech's operator. 

Vile and his craft swooped forward in an attempt to crush the owner of the plasma cannon. At that moment, Jad and Kol made their precision strike, dashing at an angle with their sabers kept in a horizontal position, holding onto the handles with both hands, more so as if they were to drive the blades into the legs as a plow, rather than precision sabers.

But the outcome was fantastic. The 'Mech was legless in moments, the beam sabers slicing through the tough outer shell with ease. The cut was ragged, as the craft had been moving, but it worked. The 'Mech collapsed forward, and Gavin went in with a vicious downthrust for the kill.

The 'Mech's explosion was fantastic, lighting up the false sky with the inner implosion of energy. But before the canopy blew, the occupant leapt out from the burning remains, standing tall with his red eyes glaring angrily.

The shoulder cannon mounted on him whined for a moment, and then pegged a yellow blast of energy at Jad. Jad brought his saber up to block the shot, but upon impact the energy dispersed, raking through the saber itself and leeching into his systems.

"It-it's a paralyze blast!" Jad grunted angrily as he fell to his side. Kol and Gavin gaped for a moment before Kol roared angrily at the unexpected attack. He dashed forth-

To be blasted into stasis by a hail of holographic bullets. Now, only Gavin stood fully functional, and he didn't quite know what to do. Vile's cannon came down, marking a bead on the trainee. Gavin's eyes went wide, and he froze in shock.

Luckily for him, a blaze of light slammed down the very center of Vile, causing the illusion to vanish in an explosion of simulated light. When Gavin opened his eyes again, Zero stood with one hand at his side, and the saber in his other. 

The fury in his eyes was intense, but he looked at Gavin, and it vanished in respect.

"You three did well in this test run. Not only did you make it to end of the program, but you also managed to remember what I said. Kol and Jad did a nice job on the legs." Gavin rubbed his helmet.

"Funny-I don't remember Vile leaping out of the 'Mech on June 4th." Zero chuckled.

"He didn't." Gavin's eyes raised, and Zero waved his hand, putting the saber back in its sheathe. "Hey, news flash. The more intense the simulations, the better you are come the real thing." Gavin nodded, admitting to himself that the odd quirks of Zero had some deep nugget of truth to them. Gavin raised a lifelike hand and pointed to his companions.

"Will they be all right?" Zero nodded.

"A few days in stasis'll heal them up. They may be a bit grouchy afterwards, but then who isn't?" Gavin shrugged.

"Hazil? The guy's always grumpy. I think he smiles when he wakes up." Zero smiled a bit, nodding his head.

"He may at that." Zero walked over and pounded Gavin's shoulder. "I just need to take the data from this simulation to Cain, and then we'll get you and your friends something to do for a while. Congrats, rookie. You made the first cut."

"X, I'm not as young as I was in Light's heyday." Cossack grumbled, his white beard and mustache blowing gently. He rested in a plush comforter underneath his Citadel, in a section that was heated. Under Kalinka's strict orders, he had been keeping his activities to a minimal level, resting up his strength. And his age was beginning to show. Not that it hadn't when X had laid eyes on him before, but more so now than ever.

X sat opposite of the Russian robotics genius with his legs propped up. He had kept his armor behind in favor of a simple white T-Shirt and Blue Jean Cutoffs. The idea that a reploid-or X- couldn't get out of their armor was an incredibly stupid assumption. Newer models lacked this function because of humanity's continuing distrust, but X's ability to cloak his true identity was something he held sacred. It felt good to get out of the war weary blue metal now and then.

"I know that Cossack. But you're still alive, far beyond anyone's expectations." X motioned to Light's final capsule, still blinking with its energy in a far corner of the room. "Light must have known you would be alive to now, otherwise he wouldn't have sent the message bomb to you." Cossack gave a wry smile.

"X, that capsule would have stayed here until Doomsday waiting for you. My death would have had no effect on its outcome."

That capsule had contained no upgrade, but all the missing answers to X's questions of the past. It had told of Rock's death, of how his friends also perished-how the Maverick Virus caused a future fighter who would be known as Zero to destroy all in his path, even his creator Wily. And how the threat had been halted, only to be kept in stasis for later. It had been one which X learned to cope with in his own fashion.

The past was the past. Zero was his friend now, and what was done was not Zero's fault. It was that blasted piece of software code that had done the damage. 'Destroy, Infect, Survive.' That had been its 3 functions, and Wily had done well. Too well, for he had doomed himself as well as the future world.

If a different path had been taken-

Well, Sigma would still be leading the Hunters, Cancer would be alive, Cain would have full use of his legs, and X wouldn't be a Hunter. But he wouldn't have Zero as a friend.

"Allow me some measure of gratitude, you old fart." X muttered in thick Russian. Cossack's eyes widened and he laughed loudly at the joke. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Cossack shook his head.

"I forget you can speak the language of my native country, you roguish excuse for a savior." Cossack grumbled in even thicker dialect. "It pleases me to think there is still some grace of education in the world." X switched back to English.

"So, have you considered what to do with this place?" X motioned with a hand to Cossack's massive castle. Cossack shrugged.

"Kalinka will inherit it, as she should. It is high time she finds a husband, instead of looking after her old doddering father. Besides, I still have my robots." X shrugged and looked over to where Dust Man was calmly vacuuming the few mites of dust from the ground. 

"Oh, sure. They may be good for menial tasks, but they're not meant to be caretakers." Cossack popped X a wry frown.

"X, Rock and Roll were Light's helpers long before today." X folded his arms.

"Yeah, and they had some emotions and highly advanced thought processes. Yours just have manner subroutines. There's a big difference. Maybe if they were reploids, but not robots. And Rock-" X looked over and sadly shook his head at his deactivated older brother. His spirit had saved X in his most dire hour of need, but the being that was would never return. Cossack nodded sadly.

"I know. What happened to Rock, Roll and Blues was a pure accident of the purest kind. Untraceable, un-recreateable, and unexplainable. He had meant to create robots that could help him around his duties, but in the end he managed to create robots that went beyond his dreams. As a matter of fact, you don't know this. But he contacted me shortly after Rock and the others were destroyed by your red friend, and told me where the design schematics for you had come from. He had examined Rock's designs to the fullest, and had believed he had pinpointed what made his creation go beyond the supposed limits of intelligence. Thanks to that one blip in 200X, he was able to create you-create all reploid life." X shook his head and laughed.

"I guess I'm more like Mega than I thought." Cossack pointed a finger. 

"You are at that." Cossack motioned to the clock. "But we can discuss things as that later. Now, you must return back to your other home." X made a mopey face.

"Aww, do I have to?" Cossack laughed again, and switched to Russian.

"Begone, X! I'll be waiting for you whenever you need to return." X sighed.

"All righty. See you later then. Tell Kalinka I said hi." X got up and nodded his head. Shutting his eyes, he activated his warp controls and blasted himself out of the Citadel to the Maverick HHQ.

"Oh, doctors in the army, they say we're mighty bright-we work on patients through the day and nurses through the night!" Hazil sung loudly as he went about the Medical Bay. It was an old diddy from a TV Show known as M*A*S*H, and a favorite of the grumpy reploid. Rolling around on his wheel base, he sprayed a last few squirts of disinfectant around the lab and nodded in approval. Just then, the door to the Medical Bay opened. Hazil turned around with a fake grimace on his face, but he loosened it when he saw it was Bastion, who chuckled and finished off the tune.

"Oh, I don't want no more of army life-GEE MA, I Wanna go HOME!" Hazil laughed loudly and gave a round of applause.

"Excellent job, Bastion. Although a singing lesson is probably not why you're dropping by my humble abode." Bastion shook his head softly, letting his double layered hair bounce.

"Correct as always, you crotchety old frump." After his helmet was sliced open during Airborne Albatross's attack, Bastion had let his synth-hair finish growing to a second layer, a layer in which he had bleached a lighter brown. From dark to light, spiraling outwards. It was bigger and harder to manage, but Bastion liked the impression it put on his foes. 

Hazil gave a knowing smile and motioned over to the only occupied table in the Medical Bay. On it was the unmoving form of the mysterious reploid Bastion's task force had come across in the latest mission. Blond hair tangled with strands of orange red lay limp underneath her head and helmet, and her entire frame was covered in pink and red orange armor. The boots looked more powerful than those found on ordinary reploids, like an advanced dash system. Bastion once again found his gaze freezing over on the form. With a frown, he shook his head and tried to push away the dazzling emotions in his head. 

"So, you find out what's wrong with her?" Hazil cocked a steely eye on the form. 

"Well, she's not infected with the Maverick Virus, or any other systems abnormality. But her energy meter was pretty low when I gauged it, and before I cleaned her up she was a real mess. She's been seeing some action somewhere, Bastion. Not all friendly. And for a while there, I thought-" Hazil stopped and shook his head, prompting Bastion to look over in surprise. "I thought for a while she might have been military. But a search on our mystery gal came up nil." Bastion frowned.

"Military? What gave you that indication?" Hazil pointed to her lower body and chuckled.

"Double Dash Thrusters, airborne capabilities." Bastion's eyes boggled.

"Wha? Double Air-Dash?! I thought only X could pull that trick off, and that's when he's in his X3 Golden Armor!" Bastion ran a hand through his hair. "You're right, that does sound weird. But it doesn't help us to place a tag on where she came from-or why she was even there when we were fighting with the mavericks." Hazil gave a small noise and raised his hands.

"Most likely she went into auto stasis during that battle. A concussion from a stray shot, who knows? In any case, her recuperation period's done. Bastion, it's time to wake the sleeping beauty." Bastion smiled.

"All right. Now we'll get some answers!" Hazil rolled over and hit a button on the console attached to the cushioned cot. A small current ran up, giving a boost of power into the reploid's systems and activating it. It was slow at first, and Hazil thought it wasn't working.

"Hmm. Stand back, Bastion. I'm gonna give this one a little more wakey juice." Hazil turned a dial, and the thrumming of power through the cot became louder. The reploid's eyes flew open, and Hazil cracked a smile, his face right over the reploid's vision.

"Congrats, all. I think weeeAAAAAAHHH!" Hazil's statement of joy went horribly awry as the reploid sprang to life. A look of fear and rage streaked itself across her face as she leapt high into the air, activated her Thrusters, slammed into Hazil, knocked him off balance-

Then proceeded to grab him by his tank tread base, spin him around several times and at last fling him towards the wall. Hazil's speed was incredible, his flailing arms a perfect representation of a cartoon character as his wide eyed scream filled the room. And then it stopped. Bastion winced visibly as Hazil's head drove through the Medical Bay wall, sticking out into the adjoining corridor to the rest of Maverick HHQ. 

Bastion's Hunter instincts took over as he pulled out his purple saber and lit the blade afire. But he needn't have worried. Once Hazil had been disposed of, the blazingly powerful 'ploid stopped cold, blinking her eyes before collapsing to the ground in shock. She fell backwards, coming to rest against the opposite wall. Bastion's confused stare increased.

"What the blazes-man, this is nuts!" Bastion grumbled. Should he attack her, leave her alone, or what? Her actions were highly irrational, and yet Hazil had said there was no trace of infection. Finally, Bastion was satisfied the reploid wouldn't be getting up for a while and extinguished his saber, placing it back in its sheath. Most likely, it had been Hazil's not too pleasing mug that had scared her. But a reaction that strong came with years of training. Just where did this reploid come from?

Just then, Wycost ran through the door, his Buster primed for action and a look of scorn on his face. He sighted the scene, and when he saw Bastion was at rest, turned his Buster back into a hand. Sighing, he scratched his helmet.

"All right, boss. Mind telling me why Hazil's head is sticking out the corridor wall?" Bastion looked over and shrugged, his surprise still evident.

"That-reploid over there somehow managed to throw Hazil hard enough to do the trick. Most likely he scared the living daylights outta her." Wycost grinned.

"Shoot, Hazil'd scare anyone first thing in the morning." Bastion nodded slowly.

"He would at that." Just then, the reploid opted to groan and rub her head. Bastion and Wycost focused their stares on the becoming beauty with interest-and a hint of wariness. She shook her head, letting the blonde and orange hair tumble about, blinking several times and finally looking up with a weary stare to the two staring strangers above.

"Blimey-can you two crackers explain why I feel like there's a bloody Diamond Jubilee blasting about in me 'ead?" The accent was undeniably British, and Wycost's puzzled expression at the statement was evident enough for Bastion to crack a smile, albeit a small one. He rubbed his head and pointed a finger at the immobile and stunned form of Hazil.

"Maybe its got something to do with the fact you just flung our Chief Medical Officer through the wall of the Medical Bay." The British reploid blinked in surprise.

"I did that? Bloody 'ell. Now, if you'd be so kind as to help a lady, would you two Yanks like to tell me your names?" Bastion nodded.

"I'm Bastion, Commander of the 21st Maverick Hunter Unit. And this guy to my right is Wycost, also of the 21st and perhaps the deadliest guy with a Buster you'll run across." The British reploid blinked oddly with a disbelieving stare.

"Maverick Hunter? Buster? What are you talkin' about, luv?" Bastion's face shifted into her stunned gaze, and Wycost elbowed him grimly.

"Commander, I've seen this before. She's lost her memory. Speech processes and basic motor controls are there, but all her memories and historical databases have been wiped clean. It's called a 'memory wipe.' It's caused usually by intense emotional trauma." Bastion ruffled his hair and whispered back.

"I thought that was something that only happened to humans!" Wycost gave him a wry frown.

"Reploids often have things they'd rather forget. Sometimes the process takes more than an original memory itself. And a condition like this doesn't show up on medical scans. This is a severe case on our hands. It's like teaching a baby to walk, Bastion." Bastion nodded his head slowly, and turned back to the reploid in question.

"So, may I ask what your name is, miss?" The reploid shook her head for a moment before gazing up for a moment.

"I-I'm not quite sure, but I think it might be Bristol." Bastion held his chin for a moment and stared.

"Bristol, eh? Well, Bristol. Welcome to Maverick Hunter Headquarters in New Tokyo, Japan. I doubt that means anything to you, though. In any case, I'd like to take you to see Cain. He might be able to help you out with any questions you'd have." Bastion reached down and held out his hand for Bristol. Bristol drew back for a minute, but Bastion chuckled. "I won't bite." Bristol looked up and saw the warmth in Bastion's genuine expression, finally reaching out her own hand and letting Bastion curl his fingers around it. 

Bastion drew her up to a standing position and pointed to the door. 

"This way to Wonderland's rabbit, Alice." Bristol frowned.

"Wha?" Bastion sighed.

"Never mind. Wycost, pull Hazil out of the wall and make sure he's okay." Wycost shrugged and pulled down his dark shades.

"Oh, he'll be all right. He'll just be incredibly angry for a while." Wycost watched Bastion lead a dazed Bristol out the door, never once letting his gaze soften. Now Bristol was all right. But something about her put him at unease.

Wycost didn't trust Bristol much farther than spitting distance. Of course, Wycost usually was a little wary with new people.

Was his gut instinct right this time around?


	4. Shattered Crystal Reality

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER TWO: SHATTERED CRYSTAL REALITY

In an abandoned building, somewhere in the desert of Northern Africa, a pair of reploids watched out the windows of the shack and frowned. One was short, the other was tall. But both looked as if weren't too happy about something. Finally, the short one moaned and activated his weapon, a dual beam saber with a long handle. He swung it around into the wall, making another cut into the tattered frame. The big one looked over in disinterest and shook his head.

"Let it go, man. Just let it go." The small one flipped the beam staff off and yanked his helmet off, throwing it against the wall with a solid throw. Then he slumped into a chair that had seen better days.

"You just take life on the easy side, doncha?" He said snidely to the taller one, letting his fiery red hair fall back. The tall one blinked twice, then shrugged and looked out the window.

"It helps sometimes. Your mind never gets clouded with negative emotions. It's tough to remain in advantage when your anger makes you fly off the hook." The short one shook his head.

"Easy for you, bro. Whoever made us had a sense of humor, that's for sure. I wish I could give him a solid punch for it!" The tall one turned around and smiled.

"No, I think whoever made us had his head on straight. Tell me, what's your personality?" 

"Hotheaded, angry most of the time. A steamin' pot of water on the burner."

"Correct. And what is mine?"

"You're calm, quiet, rational and a bit slow at times." The tall one folded his arms and nodded.

"There you have it. We complement each other perfectly. Because of that difference in personalities, we are capable of working in tandem in unpredictable ways. The only downside is that should one of us go missing, it's most likely the other would go off his nut." The short one shook a fist.

"Blabber on all you like. The simple fact is we're outgunned, fighting against a powerful force of mavericks." The tall one walked over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling in a pained way.

"I know. And we could have been one of them. But we're strong, you know. Strong enough to stop his plans from succeeding." The short one finally got up.

"Someday, it won't be forces we'll be tangling with. Someday my older brother, it'll be HIM we take down." The tall one nodded somberly, a frown at last crossing his face.

"Yeah. That would stop the movement right then and there. If you're going to fight the Snake, you go for the head. But remember this, my little brother." The small one looked over and nodded his head, waiting for the answer.

"It's the Snake's head that holds the venomous bite."

"So, your name is Bristol." Cain stood up behind his desk and gently laid down the datapad with the data from Medical. Bastion and Bristol stood on the other side, Bristol a little more nervous than the Arabic Anomaly. Bristol's blonde and reddish hair swung gently as she moved her head.

"That's right, sir." Cain's eyes sparkled for a moment, and he finally sat down. Motioning to the chairs by his two visitors, he began.

"Bastion tells me you have no clue about your past, Bristol." The new reploid nodded again. Cain sighed. "Such a problem is nothing new, Bristol. Often, when a reploid is rebuilt, a certain amount of their memories is lost. But you show no signs of being rebuilt, and that is what puzzles me." Cain rubbed his eyes. "Humans can lose their memories as well, either by blocking it out because of how horrendous it is or by receiving a severe blow to the head. And even though this kind of memory loss has never been proven to be attached to reploids, it's the best I can come up with at the current time. You went through a lot out there, Bristol. I think you might have suffered amnesia." 

Bristol shifted in her seat. 

"A reploid without a past, eh? Well, that's a FINE lot to be played in life." Cain chuckled.

"You can stay here at Maverick HHQ for as long as you like, Bristol. And it might not hurt to go with Bastion here to the databanks. You have some catching up to do." Bastion blinked in surprise.

"But sir! I have to report back to my Unit for a training exercise in five minutes." Cain frowned.

"Bastion, I can clear you for being absent. Besides, you're the commander of your Unit. Commanders get a few more special privileges than you'd like to believe you have." Bastion stood tall, putting his arms at his side.

"Sir, it's not that I need the practice. It's loyalty to my Unit." Cain stood up now, his frown harsher as his face turned red.

"I am the leader of the Maverick Hunters, Bastion. And as long as I am, you will listen to my orders. You will take Bristol to the Databanks and help her get settled in here, is that clear?" Bastion's staunch appearance crumbled and he nodded angrily.

"Yessir." Cain smiled.

"Good. Sorry you had to see that Bristol, but Bastion can be incredibly hard-headed at times." Bristol folded her arms and got up.

"I think it's a rather exceptional quality to have." Cain chuckled.

"It can be at times. Now, I suggest you two shuffle off to Buffalo. I have a meeting with the Global Defense Council on the uplink in two minutes."

In the Training Room of the Maverick HHQ, the 21st angrily paced back and forth, waiting for their Commander to show his face. Wycost's glasses were flipped down, toned a dark red as they scanned in infrared. With his Buster raised, he looked the most impatient of anyone in the Unit. They all grumbled impatiently, but Wycost finally got fed up and slapped his comm.

"Bastion, do you mind telling me where the frack you are?" In response, the sliding door to the rest of HQ hissed open, and a familiar blue figure walked in.

"Bastion's occupied for the moment, Wycost." Wycost's shades slid back up into his helmet as he frowned.

"Doing what, may I ask?" X folded his arms and gave a half smile.

"Making sure one reploid he found on that last mission gets some sense of reality. Bristol is the name, and she had a serious memory wipe." Amazed grumbles ran through the Unit at the announcement, but Wycost finally nodded.

"All right, I'll buy it. No one here would particularly like to get that treatment. But who then is going to lead us in practice?" X chuckled.

"How about you, Wycost? You're second in command of the 21st. Put it to good use." Wycost flipped down his regular black shades and chuckled, finally smiling.

"I guess I am. You wanna join our little jam session?" X nodded absently.

"Why not?" 

But X had a deeper reason for telling Wycost to do it himself; it was a chance to lead the plucky green Hunter would most likely never get now. Wycost wagged a finger at the experienced destroyer of 5 Maverick Uprisings and chuckled.

"Now, to keep things even, I must ask you abstain from using your armor sets. But your special weapons are allowed." X lifted his eyebrows. The only special weapons he had kept were the Koala Slash and Narwhal Cannon. But he'd make good use of them.

"So, if I may ask Wycost, what simulation are we doing?" Wycost punched a button on a wall of the Holo-Training room and grinned evilly. As the surroundings quivered with a shimmering light, X knew where Wycost had set this training mission for.

"Hope you're ready, X; it's time to take on Sigma's First Fortress. And this time, no Zero to save your bacon."

"So Cain built the first reploid?" Bristol muttered. Staring at the blinking computer screen of historical records, her gaze did not shift. Bastion grudgingly looked up and opened his eyes, grunting in approval.

"Yup. Went by the name of Cancer. He was X's best friend before-" Bastion paused and shook his head sadly. Bristol looked up in surprise, pausing the data download.

"Before what?" Bastion unfolded his arms and rubbed his eyes with a hand.

"You remember the events of June 4th? Bristol nodded.

"Quite, luv. Sigma and his merry band of bushwackers blew their way out of Maverick HHQ, hopped aboard the Death Rogumer and blasted off to destroy humanity." Bastion motioned at the screen, and Bristol's eyes widened. "Oh, no-Cancer wasn't one of the-"

Blinking away the tears two seconds later, Bristol choked out the rest. "Bugger. Cancer was the first to die." Bastion nodded, his face in a droop.

"He was alive long enough for X to return and have his best friend die in his arms. X doesn't like to remember it much, but that's what pushed him over the edge to become a Hunter." Bristol shook her hair back.

"How many people have died to the mavericks?" Bastion shrugged.

"If you count reploids as people, they number in the hundreds of thousands. And our dedication to their eradication is severe. When you see the people you work with get blown away by a cold blooded killer, it does something to you." Bristol's eyes glazed over for a moment as she frowned.

"I know." Bastion blinked.

"Pardon?" Bristol's eyes declouded and she looked up questioningly.

"Yes, Bastion?" Bastion shook his head, trying to get rid of that haunting angry stare he had seen.

"Nothing. Just forget I said anything." Bristol shrugged, turning back to the screen.

"Bastion?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't suppose you know who that green chap with the Buster is that ran into the Medical Bay earlier today?"

"Wycost?" Bastion said calmly. Bristol nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, him. What's his view on all of this?" Bastion groaned.

"That's opening up a whole new can of worms, Bristol. If you were to try and find the nastiest, meanest, most down-to-earth in your face person in the Hunters, it'd be him. He's right up there with Zero, and even worse at times." Bristol snapped the monitor off and wheeled her chair back. She stretched her arms and frowned.

"Funny. Was he built like that?" Bastion shrugged.

"Building reploids is a weird business, Bristol. It's hard to program a mood. Basically, you just pick it up as you go along, and Wycost had a pretty hard go at it."

"What do ye mean by that, luv?" Bastion leaned up against the wall and sighed.

"Wycost was from the Bronx. Downtown New York, which isn't the friendliest place. Anyways, he was part of the neighborhood maverick watch. Kind of like the Hunters, only they lack the heavy duty firepower. They're more like watchdogs, really, and therefore they get the snot beat out of them." Bastion paused, and noticed Bristol was listening intently.

"So Wycost's life was far from happy, but he had his friends, you see. Then something terrible happened a year ago. The Fifth Maverick Uprising began anew. With Zero MIA, it was up to X to stop the assault. And it took place where Wycost was stationed. X came far too late, even though he obliterated the entire attack. When it was over, he had attained the Narwhal Cannon from the Maverick General, but Wycost's pals had all bitten the dust, and he was barely alive." Bastion left out the fact that Wycost had been turned into a maverick, a fact which the green Hunter kept to himself and had only told X, Zero and his Commander, Bastion.

"From that day, a part of Wycost died. He became the destroyer of all mavericks as you know him today, and helped X to put an end to the last great Uprising." Bristol whistled.

"Quite the story, Bastion. You hear about stuff like this, but you never expect it to happen so close to you." Bristol stood up and fixated a glance on the Arabic Bastion. "Speaking of which, the records indicate YOU were a part of the follow-up team that went with X on that mission." Bastion shrugged.

"Yep. I learned a lot from X, and ended up saving both our butts later on in the Uprising in a conflict with a maverick known as Pyrotech Python. That got me promoted to Unit Commander, and I've been here ever since. But the hair's new." Bristol chuckled.

"I can't quite imagine you with one of those bulky helmets." Bastion ruffled his hair with both hands and smiled.

"I can't either." Bristol walked over to a window and looked out, shaking her head.

"I know all this stuff about everyone else, but yet all I know about myself is a name." Her eyes took on a weary look and she sighed. Bastion walked over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I know. You kind of need a past to have a future. Don't worry, Bristol. If you can find your answers, you'll find them in the safety of this base. And who knows?" Bristol looked up with pleading eyes into the glistening orbs of Bastion's head.

"Someday, Bristol. Even if you can't find out all you want to know of your past, you can at least figure out what to do now."

"There goes Vile." X muttered under his breath silently, watching the holographic demon dash off into the safety of the revolving door to his lair, where X knew the 'Mech waited. Wycost was along with him this time, and X shut his eyes for a moment, trying to stop the horrible flashback. But it didn't help. In his mind, that horrible night played back.

Zero dashed on ahead, coming face to face with a foe who had the advantage of size, strength, and surprise. X showed up in the room a few seconds later-a few seconds too late. Then, Vile began to mercilessly pound away on X-and at last prepared for the driving deathblow, Vile's attack was halted. Zero sacrificed his life in a flash of overloaded plasma, and a forever scarred X was left to end Sigma's reign by himself.

The flashback ended, and Wycost shook his shoulder.

"X man, you all right?" Wycost's eyes were wide in concern, and X shook his head.

"Wycost, you had to pick the one simulation that gives me nightmares. There's a reason I try to forget that conflict ever happened. Too many people close to me died. And if you had been in the Hunters back then, you too would most likely be dead." Wycost flipped down his glasses and frowned.

"X, that was years ago. There's a time to be affected by the visions of disaster, but now is not one of them. X, LOOK AT ME." X lifted his head and stared at the frowning Hunter Bastion. "X, you're scared because this is your nightmare. And until you overcome it, you won't be whole. What you solved in your life in the Fifth Uprising was a conflict of your past. Now you need to solve the conflict of your fear. And as long as I'm here and Zero isn't, I'll stand by your side until you do stand triumphant." X blinked for a moment.

Wycost was so sure of himself, so sure that X could wipe that dreadful vision aside with a laugh and show of prowess. Then again, Wycost had faced himself as well, stopped the nightmare. Not only had he avenged his friends, he'd stopped the maverick threat cold and saved Bastion's life.

If Wycost could do it, X would be danged if he would do less. So he climbed to his feet and nodded his head, glaring.

"Right. This time, we play for keeps." Wycost grinned happily.

"That's the spirit, me boy." Wycost primed his Buster and began to charge it up, the whining sound of accumulating plasma a backdrop for his voice. X switched to the Narwhal Cannon and loaded a round in readiness. This time, the outcome with Vile would be different.

This time, X would not fail.

"Lemme get this straight now- You wanna do what to the Hunters?" Cain yowled, his hand angrily clutching at his stick in a tightened fist. Staring at the comm screen on his desk, Cain was talking over a VidLink to the Global Defense Council. And the person his questions were aimed at was the smiling yet sinister head of the anti-reploid movement; Cristoph.

Cristoph took off his glasses, folded his hands in that innocent gesture and smiled widely.

"We want to lessen the numbers, Cain. That's all. It's not like we're disbanding them." Cain's fingers began to quiver angrily as the vein in his forehead began to beat.

"Cristoph, tell me exactly what the Hunters do." Cristoph blinked for a moment.

"Everyone knows their duties. To stop maverick activities and prevent the destruction of the human race." Cain nodded furiously.

"Exactly. And they've prevented the massive Uprisings five times now. You know as well as I do that history repeats itself. There's been plenty of action of late, and a call this severe is a flagrant smash of reploid discrimination." Cristoph shook his head, giving that drippingly sweet smile like your grandfather would give you.

"Cain, you know as well as I do that after the Fifth Uprising was stopped, the battles fought were to blame not on Sigma or the virus. Your own reports indicate that Sigma was finally destroyed, with no way to transfer his core program to another location." Cain finally slammed his hand down, making Cristoph and no doubt the other Delegates at the Council leap in their seats. Cain had had enough niceties. 

It was time to talk turkey.

"Now you listen good, Cristoph. I want you and all your reploid hating friends to hear what I have to say, because I'm only saying it once." Cain's forehead was throbbing visibly now as his face turned beet red.

"I know your bio, Cristoph. Your family has been spared a loss at the maverick threat, and yet you're one of the most outspoken voices in reploid matters. Answer me a question, and do it in all honesty, Mr. Cristoph; how can you condemn a race we created?" Cristoph squinted his eyes for a moment before pushing on.

"Doctor Cain, reploids have been trouble from the moment they were first assembled-"

"EXACTLY. We ASSEMBLE reploids. This is the fault of man, and man is to blame for its children. In all my years, I've come to know everything about reploids and I am about to open my book of wisdom and waste it on you." Cristoph frowned and began to speak, but Cain didn't let up. "When a reploid is activated, it is like a newborn human baby. A reploid has a free will, a mind of its own, and should have as many rights as humans. But it doesn't, because we have the misconception that reploids are not individuals-that they are little more than advanced machinery."

"Cristoph, did you ever wonder what life is like for a reploid? They're built on assembly lines, and sent out in the world with little reassurance. Were we to do this with human children, we would be charged with crimes of indecency. 'But it's only a reploid!' you say. FRACK THAT. Reploids are not to blame for what's been done-humanity's blatant ignorance of decency and equality has been the match, fuel and fire for the mavericks, even before the Maverick Virus came into existence." 

"I know you're a big churchgoer, Cristoph. So in all that Christian Doctrine, tell me if you've learned anything. Christians believe that the big guy in the sky made everything, including humans which he forged in his own image. WELL, GUESS WHAT. We did the same things with reploids. And so far, 'Mr. Ruler of the Universe' has yet to do anything to punish humanity for its acts of cruelty against each other, its poisoning of the earth and the terrible conflicts they've created. So WHY THEN, do some humans feel that they need to punish reploids and possibly even exterminate them? Especially since humans are the ones to blame for reploid's problems."

"Doctor Cain, allow me to let the air out of your speech for a brief moment and remind you-"

"Cristoph, I'm too ticked off at you and your crazy ideas for the moment to do any more talking. For the moment, the Hunters will continue to do business as usual, protecting your scrawny butts from those who would break into your homes and kill your families. No-wait, that's wrong. Those are HUMANS who do that. The Hunters will handle the reploids who are acting in what they believe is reparation for damages. And if you try to say different, let me remind you that without the Hunters, you'd be up shoot crick."

"Cain, you are being impossible!" Cain grinned.

"Good. I'll stop being impossible when you and your friends stop playing God." Cain shut off the VidLink with a resounding click and sighed.

His hand released the walking stick, and he noticed his bad leg was throbbing again. The leg which a computer bank had fallen on when Sigma blew his way out of HQ so long ago. 

He punched a button on his deskcomm and coughed for a moment.

"Hazil, get over here now. And bring some Tylenol." Hazil rolled in the door just as he was finishing his sentence. Hazil crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Cain, I was already on my way here." Cain rubbed his head.

"Fine. Did you bring Tylenol? I got a splittin' headache from that tightbum and my leg's itching again." Hazil winked.

"Shazam." He popped his Chest Compartment open and pulled out a purple bottle. Flipping the lid off, he shook out two medium white pills and slammed them on Cain's desk, followed closely by a can of purified water. Cain downed the drugs and drink and lay back in his chair. Hazil rolled up and tapped on the desk.

"Cain, that probably wasn't the most productive conversation you've had with Cristoph and goons." Cain chuckled.

"I know, but it sure felt good. Besides, someone needs to shove them in their place and prove that they've got as much of the blame as the reploid superiority mindset in the ones with egos." Hazil blinked his eyes and chuckled.

"Gosh, I don't know what we'd do without our daddy Cain." Cain looked over to Hazil and nodded.

"Hazil, you were here since before Sigma's first Uprising. And you were the one who ended up pulling miracle after miracle out of your glove box. By my measurements, that makes you-"

"Old as Hell." Hazil grumbled. He shook his head and sighed. "Boy, I feel like it too. It's fine dealing with the occasional stupid accident and fixing up dented armor, but I really do get tired of this job when I have to rebuild Hunter after Hunter. Of course, what I was doing before this wasn't much better." Cain blinked.

"Yeah, I never did catch where you were from." Hazil rolled his eyes.

"I suppose everyone has a life story to tell. All righty, Cain. Seeing as you're my buddy and you give me Heineken every second week, I owe you that much. I shuffled in with Storm and Spark when you originally formed the Hunters. Of course, back then I was a field medic, and not as experienced as now. But the box on wheels never failed the British Troopers on the battleground, and I don't plan to fail now." Hazil rolled back and crossed his arms, sighing to reach up to his face. There was the jagged scar down his cheek, along with the mop of gray hair he was all too familiar with.

"Cain, the people who made me weren't assembly line doofs making minimum wage. I was built as my very own model, not off of anyone else's drawing table but the guys at Military Command. For that I'm a bit thankful, and the environment I grew up in may not have been as warm and fuzzy as X had with you, but it wasn't a trip through the sewers. By damn, we had structure in that place. We all knew what we had to do, and we had each other, and there was equality. There may be racism in normal workplaces, but if it showed up in British Domain, the guy spoutin' it was kicked out faster than I plug injections. But that's only the beginning, Cain. I could tell you more, but if I did that I'd be out of storytime ideas." Hazil slapped his elbow and lifted his wheel base.

"Still, I wouldn't mind terribly if I could get rid of this clunky thing for a set of regular legs." Cain's eyes narrowed.

"Been getting worse, eh?" Hazil nodded.

"They mean it in good fun for the most part, but it still ticks me off. I'd keep the box, if I could just get rid of the wheels." Cain shrugged.

"Shoot. I'd be more than happy to give you a hand with that someday. But now's not a good time." Cain looked up at the clock. "You'd better head back. The 21st is coming back from Training in a bit. And don't worry about me. You cleared up my headache."

Hazil nodded. 

"Righto, boss." He rolled out the door to his own section of the HQ, leaving behind a smiling Cain.

"Hazil, it's easier to talk to reploids. Humans are just too dang stupid and pitiful."

"I-I did it!" X said in shock. He lowered his X-Buster, watching the chain reaction in Vile's holographic frame go into its ending stages. Wycost stood a distance away, grinning his head off.

"I knew you could, X." At last, the simulation ended and the room returned to normal, with white lights shining down on the two Hunters. Wycost looked at his wrist's datascreen and blinked.

"Seems the rest of the 21st has already finished their exercise. Minimal damage, too. Bastion'd be proud. Any Unit Commander would be, actually." Wycost looked to X and chuckled. "A bit of good news in my world, X. A while back I sent in an application for Commander status in the Hunters, and today is when it comes back. And with my experience and skills, the people in charge of the Maverick Hunters- namely Cain- would be stupid not to approve it." X turned away, for all of a sudden his own exhilaration left his body in a massive swoosh of air. Wycost and his application for a higher rank in the Hunters. The one thing X knew the outcome of, and it wasn't a happy one.

But how would the leering Wycost take it?

As they walked out of the Training Holoroom, X suddenly wished he was far far away from this base.

"Join URFAWP today, and unite the world for peace!" Bristol was flipping through the television channels, and she had stopped on a commercial. Her eyes blinked intently as she sat back. Onscreen, a gaggle of smiling reploids and humans held hands and ran on green grass, while a dark figure became visible in the background. "URFAWP-United Reploids for A World Peace. Created by J.K. Horn, one of the world's most prestigious reploid citizens, URFAWP stands as a true beacon for a time in which the suffering and hatred no longer exists." Bristol's eyes widened in amazement.

"J.K. Horn? Odd name for a reploid." In truth, most reploids only had one name, like Bob or Mac. Ones with last names were far and few between, because last names were considered human-only mannerism. But this guy certainly seemed to have enough prestige to warrant the quirk. "Looks fine enough to me. Kind of like a grandfather." Bristol giggled. "Right, I forgot. Reploids don't have grandfathers. They have creators and places of activation." J.K. Horn's onscreen image was smiling broadly with a middle sized face, gray falling hair and a genuine twinkle of happiness.

"The world needs to be healed, and reploids can do it if they unite with humans. In URFAWP, a reploid can go everywhere and meet everyone as they work for the betterment of society. So when you're pondering what to do with your life, don't work in construction or join the Maverick Hunters. Join URFAWP: the future awaits." The commercial bleeped off, and Bristol lowered her remote. Getting up, she shook her head.

"URFAWP? Nutty. And from what I saw, it sounds like an over-glorified reploid Peace Corps." 

She decided it was high time to shove off, so she left the lounge and wandered through the hallways. There was lots of activity, with hovering datadrones going above the walking people's heads, and reploids of every color and every form going by. Bristol felt out of place in the bustle, but strangely she felt home as well. A small smile crossed her face, because every now and then one of the people like herself- reploids- would look over, smile and give a friendly greeting. But at last she slipped into a door, and watched it slide shut from the flow of people. 

A grunt of surprise from behind her drew her attention, and she swiveled quickly in alarm. Hazil stood with an edgy stance, but held his ground. Hazil finally lowered a hand.

"Ya know, we really got to stop bumping into each other. Last time you sent me crashing through that wall." Hazil motioned to the wall beside Bristol where it was all too evident a rough repair had been made. "This time, you might decide to lop off an arm. Speaking of which, you mind lowering yours?" Hazil shook his head at Bristol, and the mysterious female reploid at last looked down. Her arms were raised in a defensive posture, but which could also be used for attack in short order. Bristol lowered her hands and then shrugged.

"Sorry about that. Is your head any better?" Hazil reached up and rubbed his head of hair. He shrugged.

"Reploids are pretty hardy. You knocked me out for a while, but I came around. You'd have to do much worse to make any lasting impression." Hazil chuckled a bit at the joke, and Bristol smiled.

"Good to know. So I take it you're Hazil, then?" Hazil nodded.

"Yup. Head honcho of making sure the doofs here at MHHHQ don't bite the big one or ruin their armor sets. I also specialize in Dash Upgrades and Buster enhancements. And on the side, I act grouchy and drink my Heineken beer." Bristol frowned.

"Beer? Not exactly good for you, Hazil." Hazil shrugged.

"I'm a reploid. But the alchohol affects reploids as much as it does humans. It's all about moderation, my plucky assailant. If humans were smarter, they would have learned that lesson as well, and drinks wouldn't get such a negative connotation." Hazil frowned. "Stupid. I can't believe that people would throw their lives away. It's hard enough trying to preserve it without trying to kill yourself!" Bristol nodded slowly.

"I take it you take death very personally, then." Hazil reached up and pointed to the jagged scar along the side of his face. 

"Very much so. It tried to claim me once already. But in the end it failed." Hazil's face drooped now, and he sighed.

"So, what else can I do for you?" Bristol shrugged.

"Nothing. Just making sure you're all right." Hazil pointed to the door.

"All righty, then. Why don't you go talk to Cain for a bit?" Bristol bit her lip. She didn't like being bossed around, but Hazil looked troubled as if she had dug up a painful memory. And she'd already done enough to hurt him for one day.

"Cheerio, then." Bristol's soft footsteps vanished into the low rumbling of the hallway, and then the Medical Bay grew silent once more. Hazil reached down and pulled out a tiny image projector from his Chest Compartment. Hitting the button in the center, the holo-image sprung to life, slightly distorted with the wear it had gotten over the years. In it, he and Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill stood for a photo shot, grinning like idiots as Spark made a huge bunny ears over Hazil's head. In the picture, Hazil's hair was brown.

Now it was gray. Hazil sighed and put it back in his box, rolling over to his computer for the latest medical reports.

"The survivors. The only survivors in a Shattered Crystal Reality."

"And here we are. The sign-up sheet for the promotions!" Wycost chuckled softly. Behind him trailed X, his head lowered. He already knew the outcome of Wycost's application. And then Wycost stopped laughing.

"Wha-! DENIED?!" Wycost turned around, his face flustered. He glared at X when he saw the guilty expression on the Hunter's face. "You KNEW?" X finally raised his head and sighed.

"It's more complex than you think, Wycost. It isn't a vendetta against you." Wycost raised a fist and growled.

"Let's go see Cain." 

So they walked along down the halls until at last they reached the sliding door that led to Cain's cushy office.

And Wycost kicked it in. The flying metal seemed to rush right at Cain, until Bristol in another flash of her mysterious instincts deflected it aside with a powerful two-fisted swing. Cain stood up in a flash, a shocked expression on his face. Wycost ran inside, followed closely by X, who gave Cain a woeful look. Cain blinked and sat down calmly. He folded his arms and looked up at the angry Hunter.

"So, what can I do for you, Wycost? Whatever would cause you to kick in my door has to be good." Wycost pointed a finger and glared.

"My application for leadership in the Maverick Hunters was DENIED, Cain. You mind telling me why?" Cain sighed and raised up his walking stick.

"Wycost, you are as painfully aware about the Global Defense Council's position on this organization as any of us. They won't let us expand, and more and more it seems they would like to whittle us down to nothing. This place may be funded by my ever-loving coffers, but they still have control over us." X finally walked and stood by Cain.

Wycost's eyes bulged for a moment, but it finally dawned on him what had happened.

"Cain didn't dump my application-X did?!" X nodded slowly.

"I had to, Wycost." Wycost shook his head.

"Why, X?" X looked down, unable to look at his friend any longer. 

"Wycost, the Hunter's days are numbered. If we promoted you, the position wouldn't last long. And you still lack the fundamental aspects that make a good leader. You lack restraint, calm careful planning and mutual respect." Wycost glared.

"Most jerkoffs in this place don't deserve my respect, X. But I can damn well lead them into a mission!" X finally snapped his head up with a weary frown.

"I know you can, Wycost. The question is; could you keep them alive?" Wycost stumbled back for a few moments, forming a retort. But then it all finally crashed on him.

He had joined the Hunters in a desperate hour of need, saving Zero's bacon and proving himself to be even more of a hotdogger than the Crimson Hunter. He had gained the respect of X, Zero, and Bastion. Even that of Hazil and Cain. But the other Hunters still saw him as a loose cannon in the force, the rogue element in a periodic table of perfection. He had joined to avenge his friends and stop Sigma.

He had done that. But now what was left for him in the Hunters? Without a promotion-

Without a promotion to commander, he no longer had a purpose here. In that moment, he slumped against the wall and flipped his glasses down. With his black eyepieces in place, those in the room couldn't see the tears beginning to well in his optics.

"Wycost, are you all right?" Cain asked softly. Wycost got to his feet slowly, like he was walking in a dream. A dream that had become a nightmare. Wycost looked to Cain, then to X, and lastly to a worried and confused Bristol. He shook his head slowly as he could manage.

"No, Cain. I'm not." He looked over to his right shoulder, where a 21 with a jagged lightning bolt flashed behind it. Gently, he ripped it off and threw it to X, who caught it with a disbelieving stare. Finally, X gaped his mouth shut and uttered a sentence.

"Wycost, you're-you're-"

"Leaving the Hunters." Wycost waved away the shocked looks. "X, when I joined the Hunters, I expected to do two things: Avenge my friends, and go places in this sordid lot. I accomplished one, and all of you are bound determined to stop me from obtaining the other." 

"You don't have to leave, Wycost!" X belted out. Wycost stamped his foot down.

"And do what, X? Become an over-glorified police officer? No thanks. I don't know what I'll do with my life, but it has to be more worthwhile than kissing butt and taking it in the shorts." Wycost was beginning to walk away towards the kicked in door frame, when Zero plodded in with a look of surprise. 

"Hey Wycost, where you off to?" Wycost looked at the Crimson Hunter, dressed in full regalia with a look of sadness, anger and snide idiom all rolled up into one. Finally, Wycost jerked his thumb to tell Zero to move. Zero complied.

Wycost left the empty frame, but as he did, he mumbled a statement which Zero was able to pick up.

"If you had been in my shoes, you'd have left too."

And then Wycost was gone. Zero walked over to the mass and blinked in surprise.

"Wycost's leaving?" Cain looked away, Bristol ran out of the room, and all X could do was hand Zero the proud shoulder insignia of the 21st Maverick Hunter Unit. Zero shook his head.

"Is everything going nuts around here?" 

No one in the room could argue otherwise.

"Wycost! Wycost!" The semi-quiet of the outside world grew softer as a single voice rang out. Wycost, who had donned street regalia in favor of his traditional green armor turned around. Dressed in a black leather jacket, green shirt, blue jeans and a set of shiny black cowboy boots, Wycost looked like the genuine bad boy of lore. His hair was also black, and spiky beyond belief, and his goggles were still there, but now they held an appearance of traditional sunglasses. 

While the falling sun cast a shadow on him, his powerful frame still evident as ever through his clothes, Wycost turned towards the voice. He already knew who it was. And when Bristol finally finished her dash to catch up with the green menace, she shook her head.

"Wycost, why are you leaving?" Wycost frowned.

"Obviously you're hard of hearing. I already said why. I'm not getting promoted, Sigma's dead and gone, and my penance has been paid. As far as I can see, I've done everything with those twits as I can. Overall, they're doing a good thing. It's just the way I handle things and the way they do differs. They had a problem with it for a long time. No more." Bristol put her hands on her hips and stared knives into him.

"I hear fine, you pompous jerk. It's what you're implying that I don't get. How can you turn your back on the place in life that has given you a chance to prove you're worth something?" Wycost yanked his glasses off, angrily returning the stare.

"I had nothing to prove, you mindless little boytoy." Bristol stepped back for a moment, shocked that Wycost would address her so disrespectfully. Wycost waited, priming his body for the attack. But his attempt to prod her into action failed. Bristol folded her arms and began to tap her foot.

"Nice try, Wycost. Goading doesn't get my goat." Wycost grunted.

"Good. It's nice to see you have some control over that rage of yours." Wycost slipped his shades back on. "Anything else you'd care to tell me about, because it won't affect my decision to leave. Speak now, or head back." Bristol frowned.

"Just one question; what were you planning to do after this?" Wycost shrugged.

"I'll probably go get a job somewhere. Why?" Bristol shrugged, her eyes still burning fiercely.

"Just thought I'd tell you there's a thing called URFAWP looking for recruits. If you want to make a difference by peaceful means, they're your group." Wycost stood still for a moment, then harrumphed.

"Thanks for the tip. You take care of yourself. I'd hate to wreck your pretty face because you got in my way." Wycost left on that note, leaving behind a semi-angered Bristol. Bristol put her hands on her hips for a moment before finally shutting her eyes and screaming.

She jumped high in the air, dashing upwards and then towards a lightpost on the side of the road. With one mighty drill kick, Bristol severed the sturdy metal post in half. She landed before the wreckage did. Turning, she brushed back the loose strands of hair and pointed a finger at the now almost invisible figure of Wycost walking off.

"Nobody calls me a boytoy, bub. Just be lucky I didn't count that as Strike Three." Bristol then walked back to HQ, but a disturbing thought raced through her mind.

She had considered kicking his face in. When she had been surprised, her systems had taken in massive amounts of data for a possible fight with him. The same thing had happened when Wycost had kicked Cain's door in earlier.

But why did her systems do that? Why in flashes of fear and rage did she suddenly become close to a war machine?

Bristol didn't know. And if she didn't, it was doubtful anyone else would. After all, her memory had been wiped.

But her own problems vanished as a familiar figure walked out of the huge doors of HQ. Bastion walked towards Bristol with an inquisitive look on his face.

"Hey Bristol," Bastion yelled on his way. "What are you doing out here?" Bristol thought about just lying to Bastion, telling him she needed some fresh air.

But that would be avoiding the truth that Bastion's best troop had walked off the job. And somewhere inside of her, Bristol felt telling him was not only the right thing to do-

It was the only thing.


	5. Pondering The Darkness

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER THREE: PONDERING THE DARKNESS

The impact felt in the 21st Unit was incredible. When news of Wycost's departure became truth, there was no stopping it. Wycost had been one of the best people in the Unit besides Bastion, and was considered to be a stable member. Now all of that had changed.

Everyone in the 21st walked around as if in a daze. The future was uncertain for the Hunters, more so than it had been even in the First Uprising. But worst afflicted was Wycost's leader and friend, Bastion.

Instead of training for any upcoming missions, Bastion sat with a dazed look on his face, quietly buffing his Powerstorm Wings. Back and forth went the cloth he used, but it did little good. Bastion had been the most taken aback from the announcement, for a reason he kept mumbling out loud.

"He never even bothered to say goodbye." Usually, cleaning out the exhaust ports of his black and purple wings gave him joy. Now it was a mechanical operation at best. The life had gone out of Bastion, and he didn't know whether to cry for the loss of a friend or scream in anger at Wycost's hotheadedness. Bristol had been the one forced to bring him the news, as she walked up to Bastion outside of the HQ building with a sour look on her face.

That had been two days ago. Zero and X had tried to cheer Bastion up, to help him move on. But the attempt had failed as miserably as Bastion's attack on Strobe Stallion. It had been Wycost who had saved his pitoot that day, and that was what had cinched Bastion's trust in his friend. He still trusted Wycost.

He just hated the fact Wycost left.

"Wycost left because he felt he had to." Bastion looked up, to see Bristol walking up to him with her hands behind her back. "It was his choice to do so, and you need to stop blaming yourself." Bristol sat down beside the Commander of the 21st and frowned. "Besides, there's things that need dealing with now." Bastion rubbed his eyes and dropped the buffing rag. He hit the recall switch on the Powerstorm wings, and they blinked out of sight to the HQ armory.

"Anything to get my mind off Wycost. What's new?" Bristol pulled a datapad from her belt and hit the power switch. Since Wycost had left, Bristol had taken it upon herself to help the Hunters as a kind of secretary. She felt comfortable in MHHHQ, for a reason she could only tag as another blip from her erased past. 

"Three new promising recruits just finished the basic training-and more. Zero even left a brief note about them." Bastion blinked.

"Really? Who are these people?" Bristol hit another button and nodded.

"Jad, Kol and Gavin. Basic humanoid class reploids. Recommendation by Zero: Transfer to the 21st and immediate upgrades." Bastion reached over for the pad and frowned.

"Really? They must have done pretty well." Bastion's eyes grew wider as he read Zero's note and saw their file tape.

"Jad, Kol and Gavin proved to be exceptional team players. While by no means at the top of their game, they showed incredible abilities in synergistic fighting with Busters and beam sabers. On the Maverick V-1 Simulation, they were the only three to make it to the end, and successfully managed to destroy Vile's 'Mech before being frozen in place by paralyze blasts. More than that, they have a voracious ability to learn from experienced leaders. These three Hunter recruits have the ability to go places in the Maverick Hunters, and I can think of no better place for them to obtain a well rounded career basis than the 21st. Commander Bastion should find them to be valuable members of his team."

Bastion flipped off the datapad and nodded.

"All right then. Where are they now?" Bristol tapped a button on the side of her helmet and brought a screen in front of her left eye. She tapped it again a moment later.

"They're with Hazil, getting their upgrades. Version 3 Dash Boots, 1 time Air-Capability with vertical option, as well as either a mark 18 X-Buster or a basic beam saber with beam tint of choice." Bastion pushed his hair back.

"Whaddya know. They're even gonna get a level four capability Buster." Bristol pushed her mouth into a half smile.

"If they choose. Times are different from when you recruited, Bastion." Bastion chuckled.

"Are you calling me old?" Bristol folded her arms.

"No. Hazil's old. Cain's ancient. You're just gray." 

"This must be it." Wycost grunted. After being taken on a very large transport with reploids of every kind and temperament, the large craft settled down, and the near silent thrumming quieted down. The reploid next to him jostled him in the arm and smiled.

"We're here!" Wycost involuntarily snapped his hand around and clutched the reploid's hand by the wrist. The reploid yanked his hand out and Wycost released it. Still dressed in his street garb and sunglasses, Wycost shook his head.

"Sorry about that." The reploid rubbed his sore wrist, staring in surprise.

"Did I scare you?" Wycost shrugged.

"Kinda. I'm just used to self-defense." The reploid nodded.

"I see. Well, no harm done, my frowning friend. The name's Isaiah." Isaiah stuck his hand out, and Wycost shook it firmly. "Reflexes, then. Your response would have to be reflexes. Were you in the Hunters?" Wycost chuckled.

"It shows that much, eh?" Isaiah's face lit up.

"Wow! I've never met a Hunter before." Wycost's face turned into a frown.

"I'm not a Hunter anymore. And I pray you never have to meet one. If you do, it would most likely be under very unfavorable circumstances." Isaiah bent his head down.

"Tender nerve there, bud. One question; what's your name?" Wycost tilted his head to the side, biting his lip for a minute. Finally, he shrugged.

"Wycost. A pleasure." Isaiah harrumphed.

"I always found it interesting that reploids never bothered to get a last name." Wycost stuffed his hands in his leather jacket.

"Never needed more of one. Besides, last names mean you have a family. Reploids can't screw around and make little babies like humans can."

"You suppose that's why some humans hate us?" Wycost flipped his glasses up, letting them rest on his short cut bristling black hair.

"I doubt it. They hate us because of the few who have bad intentions. Truth is, humans are just as bad as us. We're just much stronger and smarter than them." Isaiah folded his arms.

"Wisdom from the field?" Wycost shut his eyes, leaning back in his seat.

"You could call it that."

Just then, the door opened on the hovertransport and a buzzer sounded. The reploids up front began to get up and shuffle out, and Isaiah gave Wycost a wink.

"Showtime, my chilluns. Showtime." Wycost put his glasses back down and got up with Isaiah.

"Da, comrade. Da."

"Well, I climbed up the mountain to speak to the man!"

"And asked him what was my life's plan!"

"He said, 'son, take it easy, let it roll!"

"For enjoyment of life is the ultimate goal!" Jad Kol, Gavin and even Hazil sang a merry diddy as Hazil finished the final touches on Kol's paintjob. 

In the Medical Bay, Hazil had done his job, and done it well. The trio was equipped with similar dash systems in their boots, with sidegoing chevrons of gold trimming to their natural colors of maroon, teal and obsidian black. The new bootwork would allow them to obtain Air Dash abilities, able to make a thrust in any direction in any environment for one strong burst. Afterwards, they'd have to set down for three microseconds to allow a small recharge, and after every mission the gas supplies would need a recharge back at base. But Dash Systems for reploid use had come a long way, and because of their durability, reploids could use advanced systems and go at speeds humans would have a hard time coping with.

Jad and Kol had chosen X-Busters, to which they had pledged they'd be the Dynamic Duo of Plasma Power. Gavin, being more conservative and noting the efficiency of the short-range beam saber, had chosen that weapon with a very comical orange tint. Jad and Kol had wasted no time in ribbing their buddy and leader of the threesome that he was going to 'Walk around and whack mavericks with a bloody carrot!'

"I think that does it, you hyperactive miscreants." Hazil grumbled. Even though his voice was filled with a sour note, the look on his face was the thing they paid attention to; he was trying to keep from smiling.

"Hazil, why don't you ever act more cheery?" Gavin asked, placing the beam saber in the now permanent charger attached to his armor's backplate. Hazil wheeled back and eyed them over.

"Simple reason my friends; I don't know you well enough, and smiling would mean I'd lose my image around the base." 

"Yeah! C'mon, Gavin. Let Hazil be the only reploid on earth who needs Prozac!" Jad chuckled, slapping a chortling Kol on the back. Gavin rubbed his starry black armor and shrugged.

"Fine."

"So how goes the armament?" Jad, Kol and Gavin instantly straightened up; they knew the voice, and who it belonged to. Snapping into military posture, Kol barked out a statement.

"Commander Bastion, SIR! Units Jad, Kol and Gavin are fully equipped and prepared for duties in the 21st, SIR!" Bastion winced at the loud sound, then shook off the bad memories that accompanied them. It was a part of his past he'd very much like to forget, but he always had to deal with.

"At ease, you demons." The trio went into parade rest, and Bastion frowned.

"NOT LIKE THAT. Gawd, you'd think this was inspection. Now, if you all aren't leaning up on a wall or dangling your legs on one of those cots in this room in the next three seconds…" 

The threat wasn't even finished when the threesome was found whistling and staring up at the ceiling as they arrived at their posts. Bristol, who watched from behind Bastion chuckled at the change of mood. Bastion caught the snicker and smiled himself.

"That's more like it. Now, you're coming into the 21st. You'll be doing a lot of training, and when those times come I will expect that kind of straightforward, no-nonsense attitude. Same thing applies for missions. But when we're just hanging around recuperating, I want you to loosen up. We may not be as susceptible as humans, but being high-strung all the time can play mind games with reploids as well. Crystal?" The three nodded, relieved Bastion was being so friendly.

"Good. Also realize when you get to the 21st, you won't be getting special treatment from me. I'm responsible for keeping the whole 25 Hunters, myself included in line. So far, there's only 24. A Unit can have 25 at most."

"Sir, who do we talk to to obtain personal effects?" Bastion turned sideways a bit and motioned to Bristol, who finally stepped into the room with a cheery smile.

"That would be me. I'm Bristol, and I'll give you anything you need to get fitted in here at the Maverick Hunters." Jad, the most reckless of the bunch gave a lewd wink and began to walk towards Bristol.

"Shoot, honey. I can think of one thing right noOOOWW!!" He didn't finish the sentence; Bristol yanked his arm away from herself, twisted it around, slammed him on the ground and then flung him into the wall. A solid CRRACCK filled the room, and when Jad landed with a dazed look on his head, there was a dent in the wall. Hazil slapped himself in the face and groaned.

"Aw, cripes Bristol. You need to learn how to stop doing that. I don't think the walls can take that kind of abuse." Bristol stared down at her hands in astonishment.

"I-I did it again?!" Bastion nodded.

"Not the first time for you, Bristol." Bastion gave a stern frown to the trio. "One thing you get straight now; you don't harass Bristol. GOT IT?!" 

"YES SIR!" Came the unanimous response, although Jad's was a bit slurred from the jarring blow. Their response came not from the threat from Bastion, but more from what they feared Bristol would do to them, should they try it again. 

Bastion walked over to the stunned Bristol. Bristol raised her face in shock and fear.

"Bastion, I keep doing this, and I don't know why!" Bastion frowned.

"I think I have a pretty good idea. You obviously had some military training before your memory wipe; that kind of involuntary response comes with extreme training. Even though you have no conscious memories of your past, it seems those responses are still with you."

"But when I do that, it's like I see an image flash in my eyes." Bristol whimpered, clutching her head now. She shut her eyes. "I don't know what it is!" Bastion put an arm on her shoulder, bending down and looking into her deep eyes. Bristol looked into his, and their gazes locked. Bastion's face was serious, but it had a softer note of concern and compassion.

"Bristol, it may be these responses trigger memories of your past. And if you want to rediscover what you've lost, I think the best way may be to start getting some battle training in again." Bristol shook her head.

"I don't know if I can-" Bastion smiled.

"Of course you can. I'll be there to help you." Bristol looked in his face, that smiling caring face of calm reassurance and bronzed perfection. Her systems fluttered into an odd state in that moment, a kind of peaceful feeling accompanied by warmth and trust. Bristol nodded slowly. Bastion nodded, still smiling.

"Good. Well, we'd best get going, then." Bastion released his grip on Bristol's shoulder, and turned back to the other three. Bristol leaned against the wall, gripping her shoulder tenderly where Bastion's hand had been. Everything seemed to sound oddly metallic, as if she was separated from the world. 

Whenever someone else tried to reach for her suddenly, she reacted in a knee-jerk manner and usually sent them flying across the room. But when Bastion's hand was on her shoulder-

There was no feeling of a threat. Just that of a very caring individual; concerned for her welfare, accompanied by a feeling of warmth and lack of surroundings in turn. Bristol looked up with glazed eyes. She saw the room, she saw Hazil shaking his head angrily at the ding in his wall, saw the three new recruits listening to Bastion's instructions. Only Bastion seemed truly in focus.

It was an odd feeling, a sense of contentment and longing. 

Bristol didn't want it to stop.

"Welcome to Fantasy Island!" rang out the merry voice. The sun shined above, beating down through a cloudless blue sky, as tropical birds chirped, biorobotic palm trees grew in splendor, and yellow sandy beaches were washed with gentle sea waves.

It was a calming environment, and one to which X and Zero had been sent. This was no ordinary island-

It was the tropical getaway of J.K Horn. And Horn now walked up towards the two Hunters, casually dressed in loose fitting shorts and Hawaiian shirts. He carried a green fruity drink in his left hand, and was waving his right casually.

Horn looked pretty normal for an old person. Gray hair, thinning and pushed to the sides. He wore a pair of large sunglasses, bulky as they were effective. His appearance was even more relaxed than X or Zero's as he walked up to them, dressed only with a pair of trunks, a white shirt, and a sunfaded pinkish red robe. X had to stop himself from smiling at the incredibly relaxed getup, because he always had to remind himself Horn was no ordinary man.

In reality, he was a reploid. As much machine as he was cheerful genius. 

Zero stepped up to shake his hand, and found Horn's grip to be strong. Zero gave a slight nod of approval, but let X do the smiling. Horn chuckled.

"Well, whoever you are, you must be reploids. I don't see a boat of any kind about, and teleportation is still too risky for human use. And your mood seems pleasant enough-" Horn paused to take a sip of his drink. Watching Zero's eyes, he lifted it up. "Jamaican Jenny. Want one?" Zero shook his head, folding his arms. Horn twisted his mouth to the left in a small pout and clicked his teeth.

"Your loss, my friend. Well, you obviously didn't come to sit and shoot the breeze with me, so I assume you have a mission of a more serious nature." X shrugged.

"Depends on what's serious. I'm X, and my friend here is Zero. We're from-"

"The Maverick Hunters!" Horn finished with a smile. "Oh my, yes. I've heard of you. Doubtful anyone hasn't." Horn looked around, covering his eyes for a minute with his free hand. Then he brought his gaze back down to look at Zero and X, smiling once more. "Well, don't just stand out here on my front lawn! Come back and enjoy my pool area!" 

Less than a minute later, they were sitting at the table in the back of the moderate mansion, trying not to let their unease show. Horn sighed as he shifted into his rocking chair, propping his feet up on a footstool. The medium sized boots, noticeable on any reploid regardless of whether or not they had dash systems was a stark contrast to the rest of his seemingly Floridian Senior Citizen status.

"I tell you. If you have sun, an easy chair and good company, your days of happiness never end." Horn said wistfully, taking another sip of the green drink. He finally set it down on a coaster next to him and folded his hands together, gently rocking back and forth. "So, what brings the two most famous Hunters to my little island getaway?" X shrugged.

"Basically, we're here to figure out why the Global Defense Council favors your program over ours." Horn lifted his glasses up, revealing for the first time a wry twinkling gray eye-and a shifting robotic optical one. It took X by surprise at first, but Zero only stared. Not like his comments would help much. Horn looked at X's raised eyebrows and gave a small harrumph of satisfaction.

"Aw, shucks. My little eye scares everyone at first. I even have them alter my image on the URFAWP commercials. So, why do the human bigwigs like URFAWP more than the Hunters?" Horn shrugged. "It's obvious, really. Instead of a bunch of gun-toting reploids walking about to stop other rampaging gun-toting reploids, we try to solve the problem before it becomes one, easing reploid/human tensions in troubled areas. We're basically a reploid version of the US Peace Corps. And yes, we do get shot at." Horn said with a bit of a frown. "But as long as we can't fire back, the humans are happy." 

Zero finally cut in with a grunt. 

"Seems awfully wrong. Cain and a few other prominent human players disagree with the Global Hoodlums." Horn stretched his arms behind his head and yawned.

"And if push came to shove, their argument would lose out. Basic reasoning on human instincts, Zero. Humans are much more prone to fear and therefore hate things than they are to embrace it fully and be rational. And in that same manner, reploids can err as well. After all, we were created to mimick humans, down to the T of their moods."

Zero held his tongue, but X picked up the conversation.

"So, you formed URFAWP to try and stop the problem at the source, before it spread and made reploids go off the deep end." Horn nodded vigorously.

"Exactly. A reploid infected with the Virus will fight no matter what. But what pushes normally functioning reploids to lash out against humans is the simple fact that they feel outcast, hated and unloved. And they strike back with a vengeance. URFAWP goes all over the world to meet with reploids, to solve problems between humans and reploids before they go bad. And IT WORKS. In most cases, we bring humans and reploid close together, until they are a close knit community."

"You said MOST CASES." Zero pointed out. "What happens in the others." Horn sighed, his good eye dimming slightly.

"Zero, you'll always have people that hate reploids, and you'll always have some reploids that are too far gone, or whose attitudes are not swung as much. In those cases, we're forced to do the only thing we can-"

"I don't think I'll like the answer here." Zero said, his frown turning darker. Horn nodded.

"You'd be right. In those cases, we're forced to do one of two things; destroy the reploid forever, or wipe all its memories and emotions, take it to a new area and start from scratch."

"Neither of which deals with the human side of the problem!" Zero spat out angrily. Horn sighed.

"Sad fact of life, my friend. Us reploids don't get half the breaks humans do. But if we allowed our crazier cousins to go all the way in their maniacal strikes, we'd lose all the ground we've gained." 

X's mind began to ponder for a moment, and then with a small questioning twist of his mouth, he spoke again.

"Memory wipe, you say? How often does that occur?" Horn shrugged.

"In about a quarter of those serious cases." X began to tap the table with his right hand.

"Do you keep a record of the names of the reploids who choose this method of solving the crisis?" Horn's eyes narrowed.

"Why d'ye ask?" X met his gaze.

"We have a female reploid who a fellow Hunter rescued in a recent mission. Her memories were also wiped. All she knew was her name; Bristol." Horn blinked, then pulled up a small datapad.

"Well, matter of fact, we do. And if you'll gimme a sec, I'll run a search." X nodded his head.

"Thanks, Horn." Horn spoke as he fiddled with the controls.

"Call me J.K. Everyone does." Zero chuckled.

"What does the J.K. stand for?" Horn looked up and gave a dirty old man wink.

"Whatever you want it to." Finally, the datapad chirped, and Horn scanned the screen. Finally, he shrugged and passed it to X.

"No entries found for female reploid named Bristol." X muttered. "Oh, well. It was worth a shot." Horn ruffled his hair.

"Sorry to disappoint you, boys. I'm afraid Bristol is in no way associated with URFAWP. Deal is, we got so many now, it's hard for even me to keep up!" Zero looked around.

"Where'd ya get the dough to build this pad?" Horn's mouth drooped.

"Same place I got the money to form URFAWP. By a good three years of work in the Military R&D for The Global Military." Zero's eyes went up.

"You were a scientist?" Horn pointed to the rotating optical lens in his right eye socket.

"What, you think I got this for the looks? Nope. Blame it on an accident in the lab. My good eye was burned out. This thing's the replacement." X looked up.

"Why don't you get it replaced with a good one?" Horn pondered the question, then spun his finger in the air.

"It serves as a reminder to me that some things in life must not be forgotten. Being careful is also another thing. But most of all, I guess I realized something that day; if my work could do this to me, in an accident, what were my designs and weapons of war doing to the people they were meant for?" Horn shook his head.

"No, I realized that day there had to be another way to solve the world's problems than at gunpoint. So I quit, took my life savings and formed URFAWP. The group got such good reviews and approval from the humans on earth, I was raking in donations like you wouldn't believe! Enough to keep it going, and buy this spiffy island in the middle of nowhere in the Caribbean." X sighed, checking his internal clock.

"Well, we'd best be heading back. Thanks for your time, Doc." Horn got up as the Hunters did, and shook their hands one least time, smiling.

"My pleasure! It's good to know there's concern in the world for reploids." Zero pulled his hand back and frowned.

"Lemme ask you something, Horn; do you think the Hunters should continue to go on?" Horn stared right back, his happiness vanished in that blast of a question. Finally, he chose his words carefully and issued his response.

"URFAWP's work is far from done, Zero. But take my word; there will come a day when human/reploid relations will be solid as a rock. When that day comes, the age of the Hunters will be gone." X almost stopped cycling his generator on that remark, but he withheld enough dignity to give a final nod to Horn.

"You take care of yourself, Doc." Horn gave a quick salute.

"Same to you-father." And with the last uneasy exchanges, X and Zero blasted away from the posh island retreat of J.K. Horn-the founder of URFAWP.

URFAWP-the doom of the Hunters.

"You know what irks me the most, Zero?" X grumbled as they walked away from the teleport pad in HQ. Zero shrugged, having shifted back into his battle armor on the way home.

"I dunno, X. What?" X scratched the side of his head

"The fact that some reploids keep calling me father. I know in a sense, it's kind of true, but it irks me nonetheless." Zero crossed his arms.

"Wouldn't happen to be because in the original Uprising, Sigma and the gang kept calling you that?" X shook his dark head.

"Could be. Then again, there's a lot of factors in the game of life we don't quite understand." X lifted his head up and morphed back into his normal armor with a flash of light. "So what's new in this crackhouse of insanity?" 

Cain walked up to them, hobbling on his stick as he went. Zero held his chuckle in, and waited for an answer. 

"Well, since you left X, Bastion gained a trio of very crazy nuts-"

"Jad, Kol, and Gavin." Zero interrupted. X looked over and Zero shrugged. "I ran their holo-training. They looked pretty good for newbies. With a lot of practice, they'll be busting down Sigma's door any day." Cain grunted.

"If Sigma was still alive. I need not remind you we haven't seen head nor tail of him since a year ago, and he also had no way to transfer his core program." Zero shrugged.

"Figure of speech, doof." Cain wrinkled an eye.

"Indeed. Also, Bastion has determined how Bristol can jog her memory." X looked up.

"Oh, really? I'd like to hear how." Cain pointed a gnarled hand at the door.

"Follow me to the Training Gym."

"Combat training? THAT's Bastion's brilliant idea?!" Zero grunted in disapproval. Cain watched in ironic humor as Zero and X walked into the room. "Cripes. From what I've heard, she's got enough reflexes to take out a flying fortress with ease." X shrugged.

"Actually, it might work. All of her responses have been subconscious, automatic-a part of her that seems to have survived the wipe. It seems plausible that exerting herself along those lines and furthering the training, she could reach success in getting other memory flashes." Zero scoffed.

"Fine. But don't come crying to me when we end up with a nutter on our hands." X looked up at Zero and gave a wry grin.

"Care to make a bet?" Zero returned the gaze and shrugged.

"How much?"

"Loser pays for dinner at the Steak Pit." Zero whistled.

"Steak Pit can cost a week's salary on a huge binge. You sure?" X flipped his eyes around.

"You scared?" Zero's gaze narrowed, his hand went out. X's met his, and they shook together. The bet had been placed. Only time would tell who would win. Zero released his grip and smiled.

"All righty then. I think it's time to play hardball with the boys and girls." X clacked his teeth.

"Go easy on the new ones, Zero. You want to make them better Hunters, not boost your already inflated ego." Zero frowned, and turned his lips into a pout.

"Aww, come on!" X folded his arms.

"I MEAN IT, Zero." Zero sighed for a moment, then shrugged.

"Fine. I'll go easy." X smiled.

"I knew ya could. Mr. Rogers thanks ya." Zero pulled out his beam saber and ignited the blade.

"Enough with the voices. Time to test the mettle. Gavin, me boy!" The obsidian colored reploid looked up, noting Zero's lit saber and igniting his own. 

"Looking for a sparring partner, Zero?" Zero chuckled.

"Yes indeedy." Gavin set his pose, and then motioned to the Crimson Hunter.

"Bring it on." Zero leapt up into the air, dashing towards the fresh Gavin. X was content to sit back and watch it all in action.

In this room, reploids trained for survival. The more time spent in here, the fewer wounds they would sustain on the field. Not only did training enhance a single reploid's abilities and reflexes, but served to bring them closer together and restore unity. At times, it became more of a social get-together than anything else. And over time, X had found it to be very therapeutic.

But now his attention tracked towards Bastion and Bristol stalking each other. They didn't carry weapons; this was to be a test of pure reflexes, leverage and speed and difference of attack. It was also the safest way Bastion could think of to kickstart Bristol's mind.

"You ready, Bristol?" Bristol shook her head.

"I can't see you as a foe, Bastion! No matter how hard I try, I can't do it. It only works if I'm taken by surprise." 

X didn't wait any longer. He was as willing to help Bristol as Bastion was. So he snuck up behind her and gave a quick tap on her shoulder. Bastion watched in amazement as Bristol's gaze turned to fear in a nanosecond. With lightning speed, Bristol's hands clenched into fists, her body turning in a ducking posture to avoid a headshot. 

But X had followed the move, and went in with a footsweep. Bristol went tumbling as she lost her balance, but used her dash systems to go into the air with a blast of artificial fire. 

At that moment, Bristol looked like a burning Pheonix, a firebird whose rage destroyed everything-even itself. Bastion continued to stare in disbelief. The time was now two seconds.

Bristol's aerial advantage attained, she hurtled herself down at X. X braced himself, ready to take the frail blow and fling her sideways. But Bristol reacted out of synch with X's guess, curling into a ball of metal and hair that spun towards him. X's eyes widened for a moment, and he dashed backwards.

The added room allowed Bristol to unfold and land both feet on the ground, where she instantly ignited a second blast of thrusters, becoming a blistering red bullet of power aimed at X. Her arms cocked at her sides like powerful missiles to be launched, she charged at X low, to avoid a jarring blow above. And her speed combined with the simple defensive posture of her attack left X little room to retaliate. A disbelieving X jumped into the air, for the first time firing his own air dash thrusters. 

As he soared, Bristol skidded to a halt, then did what would be for many people, even reploids, an impossible maneuver.

She backflipped high into the air, her thrusters sending out a powerful charge of flaming gases that hurtled her upwards. And then with lightning precision, she set her boots straight, allowing the thrust to fire her downwards like a missile.

But in between her and the ground was the still airborne X. And X didn't even see the blow-but he felt it. A devastating chop to the neck brought his motion to a horizontal hold of stunned pain, and then Bristol really let him have it. A double whammy hand slam, aided by her downwards motion brought the mightiest Hunter of all crashing into the ground with a final resounding thud.

The room was silent for five seconds-only two shorter than the entire attack had taken. And then Bristol's vision returned to normal.

She looked down at X, pulled him back up. X managed a stunned look and shook his rattled head.

"That one caught me by surprise." Bristol shook her head.

"I saw-something during that seven seconds. And you triggered it." Bastion laughed.

"I knew it! Regaining your memories is coherent to your reflexes! Damn, I should write a book on reploid psychology." X pointed a finger.

"Don't drop your day job." Bastion put his hands on his hips.

"Well X, seeing as I can't trigger her attack mode, why don't you continue to go at it?" Bristol shook her head.

"I saw something. X, can we please continue?" X sighed.

"Why not?" At least he had a good steak dinner waiting for him.

Zero had lost the bet.

The question is; would he be right in the end?

Was Bristol truly a danger? X's mind had seen too many reploids go bad over the years to be optimistic.


	6. Past And Future Cloudy Days

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico Lawson

CHAPTER FOUR: PAST AND FUTURE CLOUDY DAYS

"Watchit, commander!" Storm Eagle yelped. The purple green hawkish reploid in front of him blasted into the sky at the call, nearly avoiding a blast of gunfire. The depleted slugs buried into the ground, kicking up dirt as their devastating power fizzled into nothing.

Storm followed his leader, Bolt Eagle as closely as he could. They were both members of the British Royal Air Defense, the 324th Battalion, also known as the 'reploid division' in the military. Both had been cast from the same mold, the same model. But their attitudes and colorations were completely different, and Bolt had a small tuft of gray hair he kept tucked behind his head.

"Storm, that's another time you've saved me bacon from the ever lovin' beyond!" Bolt cawed in his thick Gaelic accent. "Ah tell ye lad, it's great to be flying high ageen!" Storm tucked his head down and expanded his wings, going faster and higher.

Below them was chaos. It was the final struggle between the Radical Separatists of the IRA and the English Military, and it didn't look to end soon. While Ireland had claimed its independence shortly after 20XX, a radical wing had broken off, claiming to be moving on to exact the toll in lives that had been shed for so long. 

And by some miracle, the small cluster of humans had somehow managed to crack into one of the R&D bases along the Western coast of England, finding hordes of new weapons in the armory labs. Hovertanks with weapons bristling at every pore, new energy reflective shielding technology and pestersome drone fighter/bombers had all been activated at their command.

The loss of life had been severe, and there had been a call like no other. 

The reploid forces of Britannia's glory had been ordered to fight, stop and destroy the humans within. It was a call of lunacy, a call which should have never been made.

But it had just the same. And for all of Britain's promises of non-retaliation upon success, Storm felt uneasy about the whole thing. 

He punched his commbadge, growling into the mike.

"Hazil, status report!" Far below, hidden behind a chunk of burning rubble a reploid on an odd wheel base worked feverishly to save the life of a human troop bleeding from his arm. He lifted his head to the call and angrily activated the two-way transceiver.

"Storm, if you ain't dying on me, I'm kinda busy!" Storm shook his head from high above, peering down to try and find the medical reploid specialist. His hawkish optics finally homed in with precision clarity and found the medic on wheels-and more than that, a tank fast approaching the hidden cluster on the east. Storm swore.

"Hazil, there's a tank coming your way! You've been spotted!" Hazil had kept the link open.

"Listen, I'm not moving this patient until he's stabilized. Storm, just blast the thing to shreds like you usually do!" Storm groaned and whistled to Bolt.

"Bolt, we gotta help Hazil! He's about to get run over down there by that ta-" Storm didn't even have time to finish his sentence, being shut off by the sound of an explosion beneath him. Storm turned back in befuddlement, and found Bolt Eagle casually deactivating his Buster.

"Just helping out a wee needy comrade, which is what Hazil has always done." Just then, Bolt's comm bleeped. Bolt slammed the chest speak button. "All right ye maggots, what kin ye tell me?" His Gaelic got even worse with his leisurely mood, Storm noted with a smile. The response was less than cheery.

"Commander, we've got a new report; the IRA Radicals have obtained an experimental Antigravitational Juggernaut." Bolt cursed.

"And did the bahstards who told ye this say exactly what kind of mass destruction this smashing bugger's capable of?" 

"They did. And you're not gonna like this; Armored hull assembly, twin chainguns, missile launchers, and rotating plasma cannon." Bolt swore again. He looked over to Storm, asking one final question to his comm's relay officer.

"All right. Where exactly is this thing?"

"COMMANDER, BEHIND YOU!" Storm squawked violently. Bolt's eyes flew wide, and then the two of them blasted away from their position. They had barely cleared ten feet when a concussion missile exploded right in the airspace they had inhabited beforehand. Storm and Bolt turned, wings expanded and Busters ready and charging.

And there it was; The Juggernaut. The thing looked like one of the infamous Doctor Wily's inventions at first, but this craft was built by and inhabited by humans. Bolt's eyes flashed blue fire at the sight, and he fired off a shot. The green tinted plasma burst sizzled through the air, only to be shot down by an equal powered shot from the underbelly rotating cannon. The thing was a semisphere, more like an elliptical ovum. It was obvious from the design that its smooth lines were meant to try and deflect attacks. But hidden in the sides were the exit ports on the launchers and the gunports as well. The only highly visible target was the rotating turn cannon underneath the assembly. Storm's eyes homed in on it, scanning it with his low power optics. Finally he nodded and flew in.

"Give me some cover fire, Commander! I think I've found a way to ground this false bird!" Bolt gave a huge squawk in reply, and began to fire at the craft for all his Buster's worth. Storm ducked underneath the smoke trails of the missiles, keeping underneath the gun's line of fire. That left the plasma cannon for him to worry about, and it was the biggest worry to him at the moment. Most likely it was capable of rapid-fire, or worse, multishot capabilities.

The thing fired off, and Storm gaped at his optics, not wanting to believe it. High powered plasma, visible only to Infared sensors shot from eight different portals on the cannon. Then a small beacon popped out from the center of the cylinder, to which Storm couldn't guess at.

But then the plasma acted like he'd never seen it do before. The craft seemed to be CONTROLLING the plasma bursts, making them fly about the air like fireflies. And then, they flew at him. Storm cawed loudly in anguish, ducking and weaving his way through the storm as best he could manage. Six he avoided, but one slapped him in the arm, and another hit him in the small of his back.

"Blast you!" Storm cried out. Gritting his beak to ignore the pain, he beat his wings in a mad dash to reach the autocannon before it could fire another deadly storm. He could detect the heat plume from it-not much time left. "Forget this!" Storm yelled, raising his Buster and firing shot after shot. 

The Autocannon absorbed hit after hit, the metal growing hotter and hotter, overloading the delicate circuit controls within the weapon. But Storm didn't stop, he kept firing.

And at last, the plasma within the device tried to fire. But the controls had been blasted by Storm's attack; and it backblasted. The explosion shook the entire craft, and Storm's eyes picked up a quiver in the metal's covering, small but distinguishable.

There had been a shield protecting the entire craft, most likely possible because of its shape. Storm gave a small nod of satisfaction before realizing without their bubble of protection, the occupants would be much more frantic in the fight. He threw himself away from the craft shortly before the disk turned downwards and sprayed the air with gunfire.

"Commander! I deactivated a shield on the prototype! It will be vulnerable to our weapons fire now!" Storm's cry was a welcome one to Bolt, who gave a nod.

"I noticed it when me shots started to burn through. Good work, lad! Now we'd better finish the job!" Bolt's eyes grew cloudy as he kept an eye on the gunports. "Storm, spread as much fire as possible on that blasted heathen's gunports. Maybe we'll get lucky and knock it out of commission!" Bolt took off in a wide arc, maintaining a wide loop around the outside of the craft. Storm followed in the opposite direction, to keep two constantly varying targets to confuse the gunners. Their similar build would also add to the confusion of the gunners inside the craft.

The pattern worked wonderfully, both hawkish reploids spraying the craft with fire patterns of perfection. The ship tried furiously to score a hit, but the missiles were easy for the skilled flyers to avoid, and the gunfire storms were rarely a serious threat once Bolt blasted one gunport shut with melted metal. 

At last, Storm held back his charge, holding it until it grew strong. And then he let it fly.

This time, the hit did more than knock out weaponry; it did a number on the ship itself. The brunt of the charge burned through the charred metallic hull, and the last parts hit crucial circuitry. A puff of smoke rose into the air, and Storm gave a smile of satisfaction.

"We did it, Commander!" Bolt nodded.

"Aye. The wee ship's falling like a brick in the Loch!" And true enough, it was. The hovercraft flailed furiously, whining in pain as it flat-spinned into the ground. It shuddered loudly for one loud moment, and then was silent.

Bolt and Storm landed on the ground, and they shut their Busters off. Like Bolt had said often enough-"No sense in keeping the wee things running when we're facing humans!"

The hatch on the craft opened, and three grimy human males climbed out. They glared angrily at the twin birds, and then even more fiercely at the approaching Hazil, who carried another surviving IRA member on a hovergurney. Hazil gave them a begrudging nod.

"Face it, buds. You may not like the hand that's been dealt to you, but there's little to be said otherwise. Now come out of there with your hands up." Storm's words came strong, and one human finally emerged all the way from the craft.

"Reploids are an abomination, every single one of you. If Malloy was still conscious-" The man motioned to his comrade by Hazil and spat angrily. "He'd be ashamed to be saved by one." Hazil frowned, rolling forth.

"Hey, now just a minute here, bub. Storm and Bolt here were told to stop you, and if they had wanted to kill you, they would have done it by now." The man's eyes flew wide.

"But that goes against the First Rule of Robotics!" Storm guffawed.

"ENN. News flash, Mr. Bad Person who was shooting at us. We're REPLOIDS. We can make our own choices like humans can. The British Military told us to do whatever needed to be done to stop you hoodlums. Lucky for you we're CIVILIZED-unlike some humans." The man glowered even brighter. But then a noise from the craft brought all their attentions to bear.

It was whining. Whining louder and louder, because it hadn't been shut down, the craft screamed its rage. And Bolt knew what was going to happen.

"Oh, no-LADS, MOVE IT NOW!" Storm and Hazil reacted instantly, backing away with lightning speed. But the humans who had emerged were stunned and surprised, and Bolt screamed at them. "I SAID MOVE IT!" But the humans didn't even comprehend that. And at last Bolt threw himself at them, picking them all up with his mighty talons and hurling them towards Hazil and his troop.

That was the last act Bolt Eagle ever performed in Service of 'God And Country' as was custom. The prototype craft had given its all, and taken damage beyond repair. It blew apart in an explosion of shrapnel and atomic fire.

When the light had died down, Storm screamed in dismay.

"COMMANDER!" Hazil rushed towards ground zero with as much speed as his wheels would give him, being gashed in the cheek by a stray burst of metal. Storm stopped himself as hard as it was, and stayed with the humans.

Hazil finally arrived, and saw the carnage of war again. His eyes darkened and he went to work.

Bolt Eagle's majestic form was broken and torn. His wings had huge gaping holes, his armor was charred, and he had puncture wounds all over him. Worse than that was the condition of his head-

It was half gone. Bolt looked up at Hazil with an unresponsive eye. Hazil blinked in dismay.

"Oh, God no. Bolt, why did you have to be a hero?" Hazil went to work, whipping out his diagnostic scanner and trying to seal the wounds that leaked Bolt's lifeblood. Bolt's beak opened slowly, mechanically. The fluidity of his movements had vanished as his body desperately tried to repair the extensive damage. But he talked in a cracked, hoarse voice filled with pain.

"Hu-mans, say-fe?" Hazil nodded.

"You threw 'em clear of the blast. But you're a wreck, Bolt! Just hang on, I'm trying my Damndest to put you together again."

"Hump-ty dumpt-ey? Ha-zil, I am not-"

"No, don't you say that, Bolt!" Hazil snapped. Fluid clouded his optics as he continued to work on the limp torn figure, but Bolt blinked as a signal.

"You and St-Storm: He-help out the world." Hazil shook his head, glad that Bolt was fighting to hold onto his spark of consciousness.

"We are, Bolt. We keep the world safe in the Military!" Bolt's head tried to lift, but then slammed into the ground again.

"N-NO! Whole World-not just Br-Britain. The Hunters, Ha-zil." Hazil frowned.

"The Maverick Hunters? Bolt, we could never leave you! You're our commander!" Bolt coughed softly, and Hazil's scanner bleeped anxiously. Hazil looked at the grim results.

"Oh, no. Oh no nononono-Bolt, STAY WITH ME!" Bolt shook his head.

"Ha-zil. Keep me lad Storm s-saaafffeee!" Bolt's final words faded into nothingness, and then his last sensor died with a small whine. Hazil still couldn't believe his scanner, and he threw it aside, pounding on Bolt's chest.

"NO! BOLT, DON'T DIE ON ME! DON'T DIE!" Hazil continued to scream, pounding CPR on the reploid Commander with all his might. His screams flew around the dead battlefield, doing little to improve the mood. Bolt Eagle was dead forever, his body shattered and his Control Chip fried beyond all repair.

Far away, Storm felt his own loss, and the humans shook their heads in awe. But no person felt worse than Hazil.

Hazil had been unable to save a life.

He couldn't heal the wounds.

Death.

Murder.

MURDERER!!

Back in MHHQ's Medical Bay, Hazil screamed himself out of stasis. Gasping in shock, he took stock of his surroundings. The lights were off, save for the soothing blue lights which were always on. He wiped back his gray hair, and nodded his sweaty head.

"Just a memory." A memory which had taken place many years ago, before he even joined the Maverick Hunters as their Doctor. After that incident, he'd never been the same. His hair turned gray, he became constantly grouchy.

"All because I still feel guilty about not saving Bolt's life." Hazil growled. New tears came to his eyes on the same wounds. "Why, damnit? Why?!" Hazil slammed his hand on the table next to him and the lights flickered on. "Bolt, was your life worth theirs?" Hazil turned the lights off again and shook his head, reactivating his sleep mode.

But the question still lingered as his mind quieted down;

How much was a reploid's life worth?

"Rise and shine, all! Time to get up bright and early!" Came the call. Wycost silently shook himself out of stasis, taking in a deep breath before flipping his shades back down. 

He, along with all the others who had ridden the hover-transport, were in one of URFAWP's training facilities. This one was based in the wilds of Siberia, and Wycost had found the biting cold of solitude to his liking.

Groans, curses and threats arose from everyone else, but Wycost watched the rest of his Bunker buddies get up with a sly smile. As Wycost had been a Hunter(A DAMN good Hunter to boot) he'd always followed a strict code. One of which was getting awake fast, and with no gripes. 

"Fools." Wycost muttered silently. The figure next to him stirred, rising from his own sleep chamber with a bleary, but grouchless swift motion. Isaiah blinked his eyes and nodded to Wycost.

"My, aren't we up early?" Wycost shrugged. Isaiah sighed, having had several days to get accustomed to Wycost. And Isaiah could pin that Wycost was, if anything, in a semi-good mood this morning. Isaiah shook his head, trying to jar the last vestiges of unconsciousness from it.

"What's the time, Wycost?" Wycost grunted in response.

"Oh-Five Hundred." Isaiah frowned, and Wycost gave a quick smile and a nod. "Sorry. Translation; Five in the Morning." Isaiah nodded, slapping Wycost on the back. Wycost took it in stride, but still cringed somewhat when he was touched. Less now, than when he and Isaiah had first met, though.

"That's my boy, Wycost. Soon we'll have you De-Militarized completely." Wycost shook his head.

"I think that some strict order helps to maintain efficiency. If they all hadn't been partying to the crack of Midnight, they might be more cheery about now." Isaiah sighed.

"You say Potato, I say Po-tah-to. It's a difference in lifestyle, simply. Most of these reploids aren't ex-fighters like you are. They never had that structured of a life." Wycost grunted again.

"I never said being a Hunter was happy hour. But it was the one thing I did well." Isaiah shrugged.

"Aw, C'mon. You had to do something besides being one of the best Hunters ever!" Wycost flipped his shades up, the last comfort piece of his former life.

"Yes I did. And no, I'm not telling you." Isaiah frowned.

"Why not?"

"Let's just say it has some very painful memories attached." Isaiah nodded slowly, realizing Wycost's softer voice, and the implications that went with it.

"HEY, WE ALL DEAF IN HERE?! TIME TO GET GOING!" Isaiah cringed at the loud voice of the taskmaster who had poked his head in the door, but Wycost simply stared blankly ahead.

At last, he got up and flipped his shades back down one last time. 

"Come on, Isaiah."

"I'm with ya, buddy."

"Oh, no." Cain mumbled. His eyes were wide with shock, and his hand trembled. Fingers shaking, he pressed the flat screen of his desk display one more time.

The image didn't change. Now his head really DID hurt. Shaking it, he reached over and pushed his call button to Hazil.

"Hazil!"

"Wassup, boss?"

"Aspririn. NOW."

It wasn't much later Hazil's weary frame rolled into Cain's office. Hazil frowned at the dazed figure sitting in the chair, then plopped down two white pills. Cain swallowed them and a gulp of water, waiting for his headache to subside.

"What time is it, Hazil?" Cain asked, covering his eyes with his good hand. Hazil brought up his internal chronometer, accurate to the nanosecond with the global uplink's main computer.

"Ten at night." 

"EXACT TIME." Hazil winced.

"Sheeze-do a guy a favor and he yells. All right, Cain. It's 10:03 and-25 seconds." Cain nodded. 

"Thanks." Hazil peered at the human for one long moment, then sighed.

"All right, Cain. Spill the beans. What's the deal?" Cain shook his head, then reached over for his walking stick. Hazil looked on with annoyance, wondering why Cain didn't answer him. But as he approached the sliding door, Cain paused.

"Come on then, Hazil. You'll get to hear my announcement like every one else." Cain pushed the call button by the door controls, a main switch that boosted the sound all over the building. "All Maverick Hunters please report to the main operations room by 2215 hours. I have something to share with you all." Cain released the button and walked out the door. Hazil watched him go, then looked back to Cain's monitor. His eyes zoomed in, and then widened in shock.

"Oh, Good God no." Hazil shook his head.

He knew what Cain was going to announce-and it wasn't good news for them at all.

"Can you believe it?! They pull us out of advanced training to do FIELD WORK. Why do we get called in for a reploid disturbance?" Jad grumbled, kicking a tattered pop can across the barren alleyway." Kol leaned against a crumbling building, watching with disinterest at his fiery comrade's antics. Then he leveled his gaze at the trio's leader; Gavin.

"What's the news, boss?" Gavin peered anxiously at his scanner, watching the meter climb up.

"79-85-99-100% done." Gavin sighed. "Sorry, boys. This wasn't maverick activity. No trace of the virus whatsoever." Jad cursed, and fired a round from his Buster into the air. Kol shrugged again.

"So what is it, then?" Kol asked loudly. Gavin picked himself up, distancing himself from the completely destroyed reploid lying on the street. It was totally unsalvageable, a mess of torn limbs, scarred wiring-and worst of all, a fused and melted control chip. This reploid could never be given life back again.

"Well, it wasn't maverick-or if it was, they didn't try to infect." Gavin scratched his chin. "But it doesn't fit how the mavericks work. They kill humans-they recruit reploids." Jad finally calmed down and posed a question.

"So if it wasn't mavericks that decimated our gray and scrapped friend here, who was it?" Gavin held the reploid's obliterated control chip between his fingers and peered at it.

"Whoever it was fellas, it was someone-or a bunch of someones-who knew how to take out a reploid and keep them down for the count. Period, end of discussion, case closed." Kol frowned.

"I think this is far from open and shut. We have no motive, no suspects and one very unusual murder on our hands. Reploid murder. I think we should draft a report on this. Take it back for Hazil to run a complete scan." Gavin suddenly tapped the side of his head, and the commlink to HQ that was with it. His eyes darkened for a moment, and he shrugged.

"Later, boys. Right now, Cain wants us all back at base like good little boys and girls. Priority one message." Jad and Kol's eyebrows went up; Priority one meant serious business.

"Whatever you say, boss." Jad finally uttered. The trio of the 21st flipped their danger sensors off, and then vanished into the night, warp trails bright and incandescent in the dark city streets of Osaka. 

It was a lucky stroke that they had left when they did. Further investigation of the scene would have turned up nearby heat signatures-

A pair of them.

A pair of beings.

Armed with glowing dual beam sabers.

"Hey Zero, any indication on what Cain might be getting us all here for?" X asked quietly. Sitting in one of the kooshy chairs in the main room, X kicked his feet back and forth, nervous and even apprehensive for a strange reason he couldn't identify.

Across the way from him on the other side of the room, Bastion and Bristol with her attendance sheets watched quietly. And Zero finally plopped down besides his friend X, frowning.

"Not a fargin' clue, which makes me one VERY unhappy Hunter." X rolled his eyes.

"I thought it was no mavericks to eviscerate made Zero an unhappy Hunter." Zero chuckled.

"A lot of things make me unhappy. We'll leave it at that." X finally tapped Zero on the shoulder.

"Here comes Hazil." Hazil rolled in, his face more glazed than the others there. And that look caused many to wonder just what was wrong with the doc on wheels.

"Hey Hazil!" Zero whistled. Hazil turned his course, parking himself besides the Hunter's best. "You look like you've seen a ghost, lad." Hazil shook his head, finally facing them. His eyes were dark, his mouth drooping.

"A few from the past, my friends. Voices forever extinguished. And worse yet-the voices very soon to be lost from our midst." It was a prophetic statement, one spoken with severity. 

Hazil never talked like that. Unless-

"Thank you all for coming." Cain finally announced, walking into the room and going to the center pavilion. His walk was slow, and he winced when his bad leg hit ground. X's face darkened, his eyes narrowed.

Cain's leg only bothered him when he was under severe emotional stress. At last, Cain sat down in his command chair and faced his Hunters.

"Tonight at Ten o Clock and three minutes past, I received a troubling E-Mail from our good friends at the Global Defense Council." Cain blinked, then pushed ahead before the mutterings would overpower his voice. "To ensure that there's no whisperings, I'll just tell you what I received. Mr. Cristoph has gained a majority vote in there, and has delivered an ultimatum to us. To the Hunters." Cain wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the aspirin even now begin to wear off.

"Mr. Cristoph's ultimatum, indeed the ultimatum of the entire GDC and their respective countries is this; the Hunters will drastically reduce their forces within a month from tonight."

THAT brought shouts of outrage.

"Please, just listen to me!" Cain pleaded. The voices silenced themselves. "That's a month. Thirty days. I have to make a very crucial choice; which three Hunter Units to keep out of the thirty. Only 10% of our strength as of now will remain." Cain shook his head.

"It is indeed a dark day for us all. Darker than even our early days when Sigma and the First Uprising nearly destroyed all the Hunters and the base itself." 

"So what can we do, Cain?" Zero hollered. "Sit on our duffs and wait for those biased monsters to change their minds." Cain's eyes were doused, their spark of fire and passion forever gone.

"I don't know, Zero. I just don't know." 

And as the Hunters sat there in deafening silence, shaking their heads at the misfortune that had befallen them all-

No one else did either.

"Let's see what's on the telly today." Horn whistled softly. He picked up the remote, activating his window to the world. He was skipping through the Big Five News Channels, and finally settled on CNN. It was then it skipped from weather to a screen with 'Special Bulletin' on the front. Horn sat up, raising his sunglasses up in surprise.

"Hello, what do we have here?" Horn turned the volume up and sat in silence. And then it switched to a human female, finely dressed but obviously flustered.

"This just in to CNN News. The Global Defense Council has issued an Ultimatum to the Maverick Hunters, based in Japan. The Hunters must reduce their forces to 10% of what they are now within a month, or face charges by the Council itself. This reduction is believed to be necessary, in the wake of the Maverick Virus's disappearance one year ago. William H. Cristoph, the delegate of the AmeriCanadian region and also the most avid anti-reploid member led the ultimatum, saying that 'In a world where there is no infection to fight, and only mild skirmishes from time to time, keeping a large well equipped army of potentially dangerous reploids operational is more of a danger than what they claim to fight against.' We'll bring more to you as it comes in."

Horn shut off his TV. Stunned, he sat back and rubbed his good eye for a moment, then blinked and ran a self diagnostic.

No, he wasn't hallucinating. It was truth. The GDC had finally taken steps to eliminate the Hunters, the antithesis of Horn's philosophy. He finally cracked a smile.

"At last. I've won! I'VE WON!" Horn laughed long and hard, letting the joyous and maniacal noise fill his mansion.

Then he picked up his cell phone.

This was news URFAWP should hear from their leader itself.

"Hey Wycost! I just heard-we're all supposed to meet in the main hall for an announcement. Isaiah ran up towards the walking ex-Hunter, hands still jammed in his black leather jacket. 

Wycost turned his head, frowning oddly. His glasses were safely tucked away in his pants pocket, and he brushed his hair back.

"Whyzat?" Isaiah shrugged.

"I dunno. Something important though." Wycost sighed.

"All righty then. You got dash systems Isaiah?" Isaiah contorted his mouth into a half grin.

"What do I look like, a Hunter? I'm not you." Wycost chuckled.

"You certainly aren't. In any case, hop on then." Wycost overrode the safety protocols on his Dash Systems, disengaging the short bursts they normally used. Isaiah grabbed his hand, and then Wycost grinned. "You're in for a wild ride, pal."

He lit the thrusters.

The ground charred instantly where he blasted off, and the long blast of processed oxygen and hydrogen burned brightly behind him. Wycost was jarred forward, but he was used to it. Isaiah on the other hand became a screaming mess of himself.

The two jetted across the compound, drawing odd looks from everyone they passed. But Wycost didn't care much. It had been a while since he'd jetted. It always felt good.

At last, he turned off the motors and let his own friction slow him down. His boots dropped back down to earth, no longer hoisted slightly in the air by the thrust. A quick scan showed him he'd used 75% of his dash fuel in that jaunt. He shrugged.

It would recharge soon enough. Not like he was in wartime. While Wycost skidded to an easy halt, Isaiah was less lucky, having been held to Wycost only by a hand. His grip fell apart, and he was flung airborne, still screaming. Wycost frowned, then winced as he saw Isaiah skid along the ground and then finally stop up against the Main Hall's outside wall with a 'crruunch.' He decided to check on his friend, and ran over. Isaiah got up, a dazed look on his face and also a little anger.

"Isaiah, you all right?"

"NEVER make me do that again!" Wycost laughed.

"Oh, come on. Your grip was wrong, you didn't land feet first, and even then you could have rolled to slow down. But what do you do? Slam into the turf, then skid along like you're a bodysurfer." Isaiah slammed a hand into his head a few times, wincing.

"What are you doing?" Wycost finally asked, folding his arms.

"I'm checking to see if I went nuts. Because if I was thinking normally, there would be NO WAY I'd let you pull that stunt with me." Wycost smiled broadly, and then giggled.

Isaiah, the lighthearted one couldn't stop himself. He too began to snicker, and then the two of them became contagious. Within seconds they were rolling on the ground laughing their eyes out. Finally Wycost shook his head.

"Thanks, Isaiah. It's been months since I've laughed. Heck, been months since I SMILED." Isaiah slapped Wycost on the back, and for once Wycost didn't wince. Isaiah wiped fluid from the corner of his eye and smiled wider.

"Then perhaps something good came of this after all." Wycost could only nod. "Come on then, my ex-Hunter. Let us see what is the ruckus."

They walked in, and Wycost felt refreshed.

More than that, for the first time in a long while, he felt truly ALIVE.

X shut the door to his room, and left the lights off. Leaning on the wall for support, he tossed his helmet off.

This was definitely not a good day. His eyes glistened, and finally sat down on his bed. A stasis chamber would have been more effective for sleeping, but X liked the rustic feel. It sunk in, and X fell backwards into the sloshing waterbed.

"Cristoph finally did it. He convinced all those humans in the room to axe their only hope for survival." Only three Units would remain in the Hunters thirty days from now. The question was; which ones? That was the unknown.

"Maybe talking to Cossack for a while'll cheer me up." X finally muttered. He plopped himself in front of his personal computer and activated it. But before he could send a live-cam request to Cossack deep in Siberia, a new message placed itself on his screen. X's eyes narrowed, his mouth pulled back to reveal his teeth.

"Cristoph." The elderly Cristoph smiled broadly, evilly.

"I told you and Cain to not take my power lightly." X stared, unblinking.

"Especially when you use it for evil." Cristoph growled back, his mood turning even more sour.

"You and your kind are a threat to everything humanity has built." X scoffed.

"Then explain why you dinged the Hunters today! We RISK OUR LIVES to save humanity from total devastation, and yet you have the nerve to be so ungrateful, you sever the hand that protects you from extermination." X spoke forcefully, tears beginning to cloud his optics. Cristoph didn't waver.

"Sigma is GONE, X. The days of the Hunters are in the past. It's a new age. If I had had my way, I would have eliminated ALL of the Hunters. But there are still some in the GDC who view your work as necessary." Cristoph calmed down, brushing his shirt down.

"X, I'll see you soon. And when that time comes, you had best watch yourself. Soon, the Hunters will be nothing but a blood tarnished memory on the earth."

"And just what do you plan to do when we're gone, Cristoph? Twiddle your thumbs while the natural mavericks continue to fight against the humanity that has tormented them?" Cristoph laughed.

"X, have you ever heard of URFAWP?" X nodded. Cristoph continued. "They are the future. They will prevent them from taking action, because they fight with peaceful means of negotiation. I believe it was their founder who said-"

"I know what he said, Cristoph." X barked. He snapped the connection off, then flipped his PC off.

"Sometimes there's better ways to save the world than popping off a plasma Buster." X muttered. "J.K. Horn." He fell on his bed, his armor fully gone now in place of a flannel blue nightshirt.

He didn't feel like calling Cossack any more.


	7. Mysterious Acts

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Eric Lawson

CHAPTER FIVE: MYSTERIOUS ACTS

Canark clocked out of the industrial building that served as Tokyo's central net server. He sighed, looking up.

"Been a long day." It had been, a long grueling fourteen hour shift with so many emergencies, it would be hard for someone not in his line of work to believe that such problems existed. "First, a stinkin' rat gets loose in the fibre optic tunnels, then there's a contamination in the main processor from another lousy virus-they don't pay me enough to do this." The sun had set long ago, and the quiet hum of the night comforted him. The starry sky was blurred by the neon lights and flashing signs advertising everything from razors to repair companies, sodas to drug pharmacies and everything under the sun.

"Tokyo, Japan. The jewel of the Orient." Canark huffed. "Oh, well. Home again, home again. And I don't have to work until two days from now! YEAS!" That thought kept Canark happy. Very happy. 

For even reploids like time off. Canark was a reploid, although it rarely showed. He was a basic model not built for rugged conditions or hazardous areas-he was just a reploid who made a living keeping Japan's internet connections well functioning. He didn't know how many other reploids there were like him. 

His icy blond hair rustled in the wind kicked up by passing hovercars. His white flannel shirt whipped, but stayed shut. Underneath, he would have looked as human as a human could be, with synthskin perfectly mimicking that of the tanned tones of flesh.

He wasn't strong. That always seemed to be the tradeoff. Few humanoid reploids out there who could don human guises and clothes were strong. 

"Too much of a danger." Canark muttered. That seemed to be the theory. "If you can't see them as walking abominations as metal, don't give them the power to wipe us out." He shrugged. "Shoot, I wouldn't harm anyone." He smiled widely. "I'm just too darn happy!"

Whistling, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued to walk down the city streets. But something didn't feel right. Something felt out of place, horribly wrong. 

Canark decided to keep his eyes open. Even reploids had a sixth sense.

Too bad his couldn't pinpoint the giver of bad juju.

A pair of dark figures standing on a building above in the shadows.

Holding dimly lit twin beam sabers.

The night was half through its pattern when Bristol stirred from stasis. Her eyes opened in the darkness, zooming in to get used to the darkness. A check on her internal clock cinched it; 2 in the morning. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes.

"Lights." The lights came on slowly, allowing time for Bristol to hop out of her personal stasis chamber and shake the dust from her glossy blond hair. The red streaks in it became more apparent as the light increased in intensity. She had decided whatever she was doing before she lost her memory, it was a choice of personal highlights.

She yawned, an involuntary reflex from her being around X and the other 'humanized' reploids. She was just tired. And for some odd reason, having another possible image of her tattered past in her mind. 

She picked up the personal voice recorder Cain had given her, and activated its record function.

"October 12th. In lieu of the constant training with Bastion, X and the others, more blips have come to light. Another one popped in my head while I was in stasis tonight. In this one, I was walking down a dimly lit hallway while people passed me, muttering. Whether or not they were reploid or human, I can't rightly recall. But I did pass one in particular that looked at me. This figure frightened me terribly, and the only thing I can recall is that set of glasses and a burning pair of eyes, glaring right into me. That is when I woke up. With this in mind, and all the other images I can recall, I was working in a facility of some kind, where at least one person hated me." Bristol paused, shutting her eyes and placing a hand to her head.

She wasn't dressed in her armor, for Hazil had discovered that while her boots were forever attached, the rest of her armor was mysteriously removeable, like X, Zero's and even Bastion's. Instead, a modest blue nightgown covered her slender frame as she sat down in the chair beside her stasis chamber, leaving only her delicate hands, head and boots showing. Taking in a breath, she continued.

"But I must also contend with the possibility that what I'm viewing might not be recollections of the past at all, but rather a warped view of events happening around me as I can recall. Psychotherapists for years have contended regression in opposite respects; some viewed it as dead accurate, while others viewed it as a process that corrupted the unknown with jumbled mindwork. I am neither a psychotherapist, nor a philosopher." Bristol's eyes began to cloud as she fought the anger of her helplessness. "But what I do know is that no matter how hard I try, there is always the possibility I shall never recover my past." That was a frightening thought for Bristol, and one which led to utter hopelessness.

She shut her eyes, squinting the irritating fluid from her optics. At last, she shut the digital recorder off and let it drop to the floor. Then she began to choke softly, her body shaking with the sadness. She crumpled to the floor beside her recorder, curling into a fetal position, rocking back and forth as at last, she gave into her feelings and began to cry. She bit into the soft fabric of her cotton nightgown, trying to dampen her cries.

But then the door to her room chimed.

"Bristol, you all right?" It was Bastion, and he had heard her crying. Bristol told the door to open, and Bastion rushed in. His face covered in worry, Bastion knelt down beside her.

"Hey, you all right?" He asked softly. Bristol started choking on her sobs again, and she shook her head.

"Bastion, I don't know if I'll ever be all right! Why can't I remember? WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER?! WHY??! WHY??!" She finally completely broke down, and Bastion hugged her tightly. She cried on his shoulder, her sobs growing softer after the outburst. Now Bastion began to blink tears away, feeling utterly helpless to alleviate her pain. His shoulder grew wet as her eyes shed water droplets.

"Just cry it out, Bristol. Just cry it out." And she did. Kneeling on the floor, Bastion held her tightly to him as she cried away her last sobs, finally giving way to stasis as her systems tried to overcome the high levels of emotional stress. 

Gently, Bastion picked her up, holding her light frame in his arms once more. He looked down at her tear-streaked face, the utter agony of her inability to remember anything.

"And even though I try, there's nothing really I can do to help her." The training sessions were helping less and less than the first one with X. 

Bastion lay her sleeping body into the stasis chamber. Then he ruffled his hair and sighed.

"Lights." The bulbs above blinked off, and the room filled with black silence. Bastion watched for a moment, watched the blinking red and green lights of the stasis chamber shine a pale glow on her tender, teary features. He felt torn about what to do with her.

He wanted to help her, but-

Clenching his fist, he realized there was little in his power to be done. It would have to run its course.

"I'm sorry, Bristol. I really am." At least he thought, while she tried to cope with the loss, he could be a friend.

A shoulder to cry on, like he had been tonight.

Bastion promised himself that no matter what, he'd be there for Bristol to comfort her in time of need.

And as he slipped silently out of her room, he felt his own pain eased.

"Perhaps there's hope yet. As long as we have each other…"

Canark had no doubt of it now.

Someone was following him, and with hostile intentions. He could feel it in his frame, feel the fear work its way through his bloodstream, finally reaching the source of his brain. 

His logical half was trying to yell at him, tell him in this crowded environment he had nothing to fear. The streets were bustling, and no one would dare attack him.

"But what if they're all after me?!" Canark whispered, his body trembling slightly. "I have to get out of here now!" The logic which he used to do his job finally left him, giving way to blind panic. 

And he ran. Ran for his life, as fast as he could. He ran through huge crowds, knocked people over in his mad dash. Angry cries filled the streets, and someone finally yelled for the police. Canark didn't hear the exact words, only a buzzing in his head.

"Hey, you! You on drugs or something?"

"Watch it, youngin!"

"BAKA!" Someone finally yelled, snapping him about. With that simple term in Japanese for idiot, Canark stared in a stare of fear and surprise.

"No, no no!" The middle aged Japanese man with glasses and slicked black hair suddenly transformed into a monster, with a massive gun pointed at him. Canark's hands trembled, and he ran. Ran some more and smashed into the approaching policeman. The flustered cop steadied himself and pulled out his tranquilizer pistol.

"Stop, citizen!" The policeman yelled. Canark paid little attention to the voice behind him, he just kept running. Running for his life.

The policeman glared angrily and fired a dart. It went straight for Canark, where it would sink into his body and inject the fluid. Then, Canark would be knocked out for an hour.

But it clanked off with a hollow sound, the dart clattering to the ground. Canark had felt an impact, but underneath his synthskin was pure metal, which deflected the dart. The policeman swore and pulled out his radio.

"Station, call the Hunters! We have a reploid on the loose, dressed as a human. Direction of travel is southbound on Main. Suspected maverick, he's highly neurotic." He clipped off his comm, and swore again.

He had other places to be tonight. Let the Hunters deal with their rabble rousing cousins.

Hazil had woken up earlier than usual, and was rolling about his Medical Bay with little effort. Still, he bitterly kept the count of days left until the Ultimatum sent by Cristoph and the GDC was done.

"Twenty seven days." Until then, he had a lot of work to do. One task involved replacing his blasted wheels with a decent set of legs, so he could act somewhat normal. Then a chirping at his door filled the silence, and Hazil perked his head up. Frowning, he finally sighed.

"All right then. Enter." Bastion came tromping into the room, clothed in a baggy pair of shorts and a loose fitting T-Shirt. "Up a little early for your checkup, Bastion." 

Bastion sat down on one of the bunks and shook his head.

"Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind." Hazil watched him for a moment, then placed his materials down and rolled into the back of the wall opposite the Arabian Hunter.

"All right then. What's keeping you awake at night?" 

"Hopelessness."

"I think that's something we're ALL enduring, Bastion." Bastion's eyes flared.

"Not about the Hunters being forced to cut down to three Units. About Bristol." Hazil's eyes perked up in surprise, but he hid it quickly enough.

"Oh, really? What about our little British Bombshell?" Bastion shut his eyes and dragged his arms across the top of his head. 

"She's suffering, Hazil. Terribly so." Hazil began to clack his arms with his fingers.

"I assume this happened recently, then."

"Two hours ago." Hazil harrumphed. 

"What's pushing her to suffering?" Bastion got off the cot and began to pace back and forth, hands behind his back.

"She can't remember a damn thing about her past. And worse, she's even doubting the flashes she's picking up. I can't blame her-a false memory is worse than no memory. But either way, it's a lose/lose situation, and she finally broke down." Hazil sat up, listening very carefully to the tone in Bastion's voice.

"Do tell."

"I was walking around the HQ, when I heard a noise coming from inside her room. When I went in, she was curled up on the floor, crying. She was CRYING, Hazil." Bastion's eyes began to cloud up, and his fists clenched up. "She was crying because she couldn't remember. This is tearing her apart." As Hazil watched closely, he saw Bastion's fingers dig into his palms, beginning to leave marks.

"Hazil, she cried herself to sleep on my shoulder. My T-Shirt still feels wet from her tears. Is there anything else we can do to help her?" Bastion finally looked up into Hazil's face, his own teary optics pleading for salvation with Hazil's wisdom. 

Hazil thought for a very long moment, then rubbed his chin. Sighing, he shook his head.

"The best we can do for her now is to help her move on. What's lost is lost, and if I couldn't recover it before, I can't do it now." Bastion shook his head, his mouth clenched with the rage he held inside.

"So there's nothing we can do then. THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO!" Bastion slammed his fist against the cot nearby, shorting out the monitor he had just punched. Hazil at last frowned.

"HEY! KNOCKITOFF, HOTHEAD!" That brought Bastion back to his senses, and Hazil took in a breath.

"I said there was nothing we could do to recover her memories. She still has a life, and we have to help her live it again. It'll be tough going, but there's only one person I can think of that can help Bristol move on: YOU." Hazil spoke with deep conviction, and his answer was sound. As a very old reploid, he had seen many things in his life, enough to tell Bastion what needed to be done. Bastion sniffed in a tear, and spoke.

"So it's up to me, eh?" Hazil nodded.

"She's the only person she won't throw across the room when you catch her by surprise." Hazil was beginning to have a blaring thought rage in his mind, but he dismissed it for later. Telling Bastion what he thought now wouldn't do any good. "So get out there, form a plan of attack, and get on with it. It's your charter to set things right with Bristol, and I suggest you do it." Bastion nodded at last, and finally left the room to return to his own.

Hazil groaned and scratched his head.

"Looks like I have another mess to clean up now." He set to work, but there was still a flurry of afterthoughts in his head.

With twenty seven days of service to the Hunters left, he was beginning to suspect an event that had happened rarely, but was as powerful as the human equivalent.

More so, perhaps.

But then, maybe he was wrong. Bastion-

Could a reploid really-

But Bastion didn't go back to his room right away, because he heard the quiet chirp of an incoming distress call. It rang through the halls and drew his attention. So he jogged off, at last reaching the main control room. Gavin, Jad and Kol were watching with fascination at the incoming signal, then Bastion harrumphed.

"What's this, fellows?" Jad turned, his mouth breaking into a sheepish grin at Bastion's appearance.

"A little underdressed for duty, aren't you sir?" Bastion folded his arms.

"Frack my appearance, buster. WHAT'S THAT UP ON THE SCREEN?!" Gavin coughed for a moment, then finally got up from his post.

"It's a distress call from Tokyo main, sir. Apparently, there's a reploid running loose through the streets. Highly paranoid, scared of everyone and everything, and is running through everything in his way." Bastion rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded.

"Very well, then. Suit up guys. Action time." Kol raised a finger at Bastion.

"You coming along, sir? In that?" Bastion chuckled.

"Not quite." He clenched his fists, silently sending a signal to the main computer to activate his armor. The return came fast, and in a flash of light and teleportation, Bastion was covered in full battle armor. The charge pack held his classic purple saber, and even more amazing was the two slots on either side of the bottom. Jad motioned to them.

"What are those?" Bastion grinned fiercely.

"Air support." With a subconscious thought, Bastion activated his Powerstorm armor. A pair of metallic purple wings shot out from the slots, making a definitive 'shiiink' as they slid open. Jad, Gavin and Kol let their eyes widen in surprise, for they'd never seen it before.

"Holy Mother Truckin'-" Jad began, but Gavin raised a hand in front of his face.

"That thing let you fly?" Bastion closed them again.

"Not only does it provide great flight ability, but the ports on top spew out shrapnel. This sucker's nasty, and I have Airborne Albatross to thank for it."

"Airborne Albatross?" Kol asked. Bastion sighed.

"When we're done tonight, I'll relate the story of my early Hunter career to y'all. But now we have to go make sure whoever's running around out there ISN'T maverick-at least not infected." The trio activated their weapons, grinning fiercely at their leader.

At last, they'd get to see some real action. 

And if Bastion was the Hunter that everyone else in the 21st had proclaimed him to be, they could learn a lot.

Bastion left a note on the Hunter's Main Computer logs before warping out, trailing his subordinates.

"It's magic time, chilluns." Bastion whispered silently as he began to disintegrate. "Bristol, just hold the fort for me."

Cristoph was well to do in life. That much was obvious as he walked about in comfort, the sun streaming into his room. Where as it was night in Japan, it was day here.

His towertop suite took up a whole floor, then again he was the AmeriCanadian Representative in the GDC. The carpet was well kempt, but there was a distinct lack of robots about.

Cristoph lived by himself, did things for himself. Self-reliant, and calm to a T. He was a personality who stayed out of the limelight, did his job and went home. That was all people cared about, too. One of the reasons Cristoph kept getting re-elected was that he didn't screw about and make a fool of himself like others did. 

Just then, his computer chirped. Cristoph lifted his gray head in annoyance, then walked over. Placing his sparkling mineral water on a coaster, he brought up his PC Phone. The other end blinked rapidly, waiting for confirmation of the other side's signal.

Finally, it came.

Type: Text only.

Source: UNKNOWN.

Cristoph nodded. This was how it was done. Never more, never less. Just text, scrambled and cryptic which would seem harmless to anyone else's eyes but his own. Able to decipher the text mentally, Cristoph silently read the message. Nodding his head, he sent a three letter confirmation, then ended the connection. He shut the computer screen down, then picked up his drink.

As silent as he'd ever been, there was little sign that he had done anything out of the ordinary.

But Cristoph harbored a dark secret. 

"Twenty seven days." Cristoph mused. "Twenty seven days until the Hunters are no more." 

"Something wrong, father?" Sergei Cossack lifted his gray and wrinkled head, as gray as he had ever been. His eyes faltered, but his glasses helped him adjust.

"No, Kalinka." Kalinka walked in, a late middle aged woman who was still as stunning as she was in her twenties. She folded her arms and frowned.

"It's late, father. You should get to bed. You're much older than you'd like to think." Cossack baahed for a moment, then waved his hand.

"Kalinka, it's not that I don't want to sleep. It's that I CAN'T." Sergei motioned to Pharaoh Man, who paced back and forth, as restless as his master. As dangerous as he had been to Mega Man, re-programmed by Wily, Pharaoh Man rebuilt held more of Cossack within him than he had ever been. 

"It's not just him, Kalinka." Pharaoh Man finally stated in bland English. He stopped moving, then walked over to the two of them. Kalinka watched in amusement.

"Oh? Why is that, Phare?" Pharaoh Man blinked at the misterm of his name, then shrugged, one of the few emotional physical responses he had learned to use.

"When I was rebuilt by Cossack, he also added a part of code that would allow me to mimick his 'defects' as I grew to understand his personality." Cossack coughed loudly, trying to laugh.

"Pharaoh Man, it's not a defect. It's a thing called being human." Pharaoh shrugged again.

"As you yourself have stated before Master, I am not Rockman, nor am I a reploid. I am merely a Robot Master, programmed to see to your well being and the smooth operation of this castle." Pharaoh turned back to Kalinka. "As I was saying, it is not just him. I also feel 'slightly off-kilter', which is as best a term I can offer. A sensory ghost which is not there, but which seems as rational as a real impulse." Kalinka frowned.

"Are you saying you and my father are getting weird vibes?"

"Precisely." Pharaoh Man clipped. He turned around, and then went over to check on Toad Man's progress with the sewage system. Kalinka shook her head.

"Father, you should really reformat them once in a while. Their quirks get worse over time." Cossack chuckled.

"Ah, my little child. Do you not see I leave them be? They are as much my children as you are, and deserve a life. In the outside world, they have no chance of success. But they are faithful-they stay with me." Cossack turned back to his scanners. "But Pharaoh is correct. There is something amiss out there. I can feel it in my bones, but I can see nothing." Cossack rubbed his eyes, finally switching his system off. 

"Go to bed, father." Kalinka said. Cossack nodded.

"Yes, daughter."

Bastion finally gained a sense of his environment again, realizing he was high in the air above Tokyo's streets. With a thought, he activated the thrusters on his Powerstorm Armor. He double checked his charge:

"A good twenty minutes." He looked below to see his trio looking about in confusion. Bastion activated his comm.

"Hey, guys. De-activate the weapons, eh? No sense in scaring the local yokels while we're trying to FIND our person." Gavin obviously heard him, and he looked up. A flash of recognition, then he waved his hand.

"Hey, Commander! Getting good airtime, I see!" Bastion watched with concern. Already some people were beginning to crowd around the Hunters below, some in surprise, respect-and others in disgust. Bastion frowned.

"Guys, I suggest you get off the streets. Try rooftops for now. If we're gonna trail this reploid, we have to do it without getting humans in our way." Jad clipped in on the frequency.

"You got my approval on that, bossman. These people don't look exceptionally plucky tonight." Jad, Kol and Gavin leapt into the air, touching building side and hopping up with ease. Standing on the rooftop, they looked up at Bastion again.

"So Kol, where exactly did the report say our mystery friend was traveling?" Kol spoke up instantly.

"Southbound, Main. Do you think we should split up?" Bastion thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Affirmative. But stay within sight range of each other, okay? I want to be able to act as the eye in the sky here." The replies were short, curt, and full of feeling.

The Hunters were hunting again.

But someone else was watching with interest. The pair of shadowy figures had tracked the warp signatures, pinpointed them with their long range sensors. While still trailing their own target, they quietly acknowledged the possibility of these four being more secondaries.

Their twin bladed beam sabers thirsted for blood. 

They would obtain it from someone tonight, Hunter or civilian reploid alike, there would be blood.

Canark continued to run through the streets. It was getting quieter now as he got farther and farther away from the hustle and bustle of the main streets. Ducking through alleyways had sent him farther away-

But the presence was still there. No matter how hard he ran, it always caught up with him. And the terror was re-instilled and he ran again.

"I can't escape it!" Canark shivered. "I can't escape it!" 

Then he snapped. His fevered mind suddenly came across an idea, like a bolt of lightning that strikes the one inch nail on the road. 

Canark would fight it. He stopped running, ground to a halt and clenched his fists. He raised his head to the air, and screamed at long last.

"I'M HERE! COME AND GET ME!" Canark laughed crazily after that.

He would run no more.

"What in Blue Bomber's Blazes-?" Bastion snapped at the scream. Floating above the streets in a secluded section of Tokyo, he had heard a shout of angry words. He flipped his comm on and sent a message to his roof-hopping teammates.

"Gavin, you hear that?" Gavin grunted an affirmative.

"I did more than hear it, boss. I traced it. It came close by-probably no more than five hundred feet." An unheard of distance to human ears, but their reploid sensors were more advanced. "And the direction came from over there!" Gavin pointed with his finger, and Bastion followed it.

It led to a bunch of warehouses and storage areas.

"All right, then. Trio, follow me!" Bastion switched his thrusters on full, and sent a blast of superheated gas into the stratosphere. Like a purple and red bolt of lightning, Bastion hurled himself across the atmospheric bottom, following the curve of the horizon towards his target. The wind whipped his brown hair back, away from his eyes. Bastion allowed himself a small grin, noting the feel of at last giving in to full throttle.

But at full speed, he reached his destination within seconds. And then he saw it.

There was a reploid below, screaming his guts out. Bastion frowned, focused in. What he saw surprised him.

This was no industrial reploid. This was a basic weakling, constructed for delicate tasks and placement within human society. 

So why was he a threat? Bastion had to convince himself he wasn't looking at a human, for was it not for the tattered shirt and the unusually odd boots, it would have been a perfect disguise. 

"Trio, I've sighted the reploid. But it's not industrial or military. Follow me, then move in. I might need backup." His receiver got three definitive twin clicks of acknowledgement, and Bastion deactivated his Powerstorm Armor's Thrusters.

He fell downwards at 60 feet per second, maximum speed allowing for air resistance. His boots took the force with ease, his entire frame crashing to the ground like he had landed from only six feet up.

"Thank the maker for super-absorbent shocks." Bastion muttered to himself. The reploid was close by, breathing heavily and staring with dead eyes at him. Bastion pulled in his wings and at last remained grounded.

"All right, buddy." Bastion said quietly. "Mind telling me why you're running about like a banshee on Bourbon?" Canark still breathed raggedly, then he finally swallowed to speak.

"Who're you?" Bastion folded his arms, trying to show as little aggression as he could.

"I'm Bastion. A Maverick Hunter." Canark's eyes widened.

"You've come to kill me!" Bastion shrugged.

"Depends. You haven't killed any humans yet, and the damage done is based more on your inability to avoid collisions. Nothing suggests to me you're maverick, so all I want to know is why you're running." Canark nodded, still wary of Bastion.

"It's chasing me."

"It?"

"I don't know what! All I know is that it wants to kill me!" Canark shivered again. "I thought you might be it, but you're not." Bastion nodded. He pulled out his hand, reaching for Canark.

"All right. If you come with me, I'll protect you from whatever wants to kill you, all right?" Bastion drew in a sigh of relief. It seemed there wouldn't be a fight this night. Canark shivered again, then slowly sent his own hand out, quivering. 

But it stopped. Canark froze, his mouth went slack jawed once more. Bastion's eyes went up in surprise, and Canark underwent a reverse transformation.

"No-nonononono! NOOO!" Canark jerked away from Bastion, closing in on himself. Bastion felt his body tense up, a natural response over his many years of fighting.

"What's wrong?" Bastion barked. Canark shook his head, now a frightened monicker of himself.

"It's back-IT'S BACK!" Canark suddenly bolted away from Bastion, running into a darkened building nearby. Bastion swore.

"Blast him! But there's no one around but me and the Trio!" 

"Oh, but there is-HUNTER." Bastion's eyes flew wide in surprise as the growly voice behind him rang true. But it also accompanied a sudden pang of fear, of knowing there was an enemy close by. Bastion's hand reached up for his saber, and he began to turn into a defensive position.

His saber was barely lit when he deflected the flourescent saber blade coming for his head. A darkened figure stood close by, and Bastion sent his blade going for its target.

He never saw the blade on the other end of the handle fly up and dig into his side.

But he did scream. 

And he did go down for the count. 

Gasping in pain, Bastion found himself unable to move. Then the darkened figure stood above him and drove one end of the twin bladed beam saber into his stomach. Bastion screamed again.

A second figure joined the first, staring down at the badly damaged Hunter. Their twin beam sabers, glowing a dark blackish purple in the night, were nearly invisible, especially to his mind, screaming with pain signals and system malfunctions.

"You foolish Hunter. You should have stayed out of our business." Bastion's mind suddenly felt a connection to that sentence, but he was still in too much pain to clearly identify it. 

The first figure raised his saber staff in the air, ready for the ending chop to Bastion's life.

"Too bad you know nothing about defense. Now, you will pay for that mistake." 

"Commander?" A new voice came into range, and the two figures looked the other way. They hissed for a moment, and then extinguished their blades.

"Your time will come later, Hunter. We have a primary target to destroy." 

Then they vanished out of sight. Bastion continued to gasp in pain, and then the new voices grew closer.

"Oh my God-COMMANDER!" Bastion couldn't move a muscle to stretch his head. "Fellas, GET OVER HERE! THE COMMANDER'S DOWN!" 

Gavin's face suddenly peered into his, and Bastion breathed in relief. He could hear Gavin pull out a medical scanner, activated and furiously run it over him.

"Jeesus, Commander! Did that reploid do this to you?" Bastion gasped, tried to speak.

"No-someone else. Twin beam sabers, Gavin." 

"God, Bastion." Gavin shook his head. Kol and Jad showed up as well, then gasped in surprise. Gavin glared up at them.

"Check the area! Bastion's attacker may be nearby!" Jad and Kol growled in response, charging up their Busters.

Then they heard the scream. A huge scream of pain from within the building, whose doors were open.

"Good GRIEF!" Jad and Kol yelled in unison. They ran inside, and left Gavin squatting beside Bastion. Gavin lit his saber, holding it in one hand while he finished the scan.

"Commander, you are NOT in good shape here. Massive wounds in your chest and abdomen, with plenty of bleeding. The only good part of this is whoever attacked you missed your fusion generator by CENTIMETERS." Gavin shook his head. He scanned the area, ready to defend his leader if need be. Then Jad and Kol returned, their faces flustered.

"What's the news, fellas?" Gavin barked. Kol shook his head.

"The reploid inside that building is one messed up fellow. Whoever got Bastion got him as well. His head is a giant melted puddle of metal skull and control chip." Jad growled.

"I have a feeling that whoever did this is responsible for the same thing we saw five days ago. Reploid murder-control chip destroyed forever." Gavin shook his head.

"Let's file the reports later. Right now, Bastion needs Medical Help-NOW!"

"HAZIL!" Gavin screamed. The Medical reploid snapped from his semi-stasis, staring in annoyance at the warped figures who stared at him. But then he saw who they surrounded.

"Oh, God no." Hazil rolled with as much speed as he could next to the prone, groaning and bleeding figure lying on the floor. "Did you do a pre-scan?" Hazil snapped as he carefully picked up Bastion's broken body and laid him on a medical bed. Gavin grunted, trying not to let his own emotions drip into his choked voice.

"Bleeding in his left side and stomach. The beam saber missed his fusion tank by inches, so be careful!" Hazil whipped around, his own eyes getting misty.

"I want you three out of here now, Comprende? I want to be able to save Bastion's life in peace and quiet." The three stood in dumb stupefication, and at last Hazil exploded, waving his arms about in crazy circles.

"JUST DO IT!" Jad and Kol looked to Gavin, who at last nodded.

"I guess we'll go tell everyone else the bad news then." Hazil looked up at the clock on the wall.

"Just wonderful. It's about Five O' Clock now, so you can go spoil everyone's breakfast." The Trio left, and the door to the rest of the HQ shut with a hiss, and Hazil sighed.

Bastion was still glazed over, in a world of pain and unable to speak any longer. Hazil rolled over beside him, and activated a few commands on his table.

"Bastion, I'm going to have to stick you in stasis now. It's the only way I can save your bacon." Hazil pushed his hair back.

"Just promise me you won't keel over and die when I'm working, okay?" Hazil pleaded. "I've had that happen to me one too many times already." Bastion was unable to speak, but he did understand Hazil.

And then darkness swallowed him. Hazil blinked a tear out of his eye. He checked his equipment, then nodded.

"Bastion, you must have been caught completely by surprise. These kind of wounds aren't normal for you." Hazil shook off a nagging thought, then finally spoke one last time.

"These kind of wounds are the things dead Hunters get."


	8. An Angel's Touch

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER SIX: AN ANGEL'S TOUCH

"Great gravy…It's worse than I thought." Hazil muttered to himself. Staring through a microscope lens over his right eye, Hazil squinted into the deep wounds of Bastion. The bright lights over the table lit up the darkness, and Hazil found it long and arduous. But if he went faster, he risked losing Bastion forever. 

At least, this body. But Hazil knew better than any even a recreated body lacked certain qualities of the reforged reploid. When Cain and him had put Zero back together again, the plucky Hunter forgot the tiny tidbits of his life before.

"The fraggin' control chip may remember the names, numbers, relations and situations of life before…but it always misses the way a reploid smiles." Hazil growled. 

He had spent three hours alone cleaning out the blood and sealing the vessels in Bastion's body. "A bloody mess of things." Hazil had said then. After that, he'd switched to examining the internal damage.

That was even worse. The saber wound in Bastion's stomach ran out all the way through him, through the Powerstorm armor. That damage had almost ignited the fuel cells in the pack. If that had happened…

Well, there would be no Bastion to save. It was a mixed blessing, though. The damage was severe enough that it had destroyed critical warping circuits. Until further notice, Hazil had to work on Bastion, all armor attached. 

"There." Hazil blew out a breath of air, releasing the tension in his hands. Withdrawing the wiring tools, he ran a quick scan on the circuits he had just repaired. 

"That's the best I can do here." Hazil said quietly. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked down.

There was still much of Bastion that needed to be fixed.

Three hours ago, this same spot witnessed a murder and a near fatal attack. 

Three hours ago, someone or something had been here.

"Three hours ago, Bastion got the snot beat out of him." Zero grumbled. The rage he felt was intense, but with all his anger he had learned long ago to store it up for fights. He did that now. Clenching Bastion's saber in his hand from where it had lay aside the pool of reploid blood, Zero kept it in. Whoever did this would pay.

The sun was still young on Tokyo's horizon, almost blinding them all. But they were grim and dedicated to their goal…

Trying to figure out exactly what went down here last night. The ground still held Bastion's blood, now dried on the concrete. Inside the abandoned warehouse, a scanning team from the 17th was carefully examining the reploid whose circuits were now forever scrambled to oblivion. Zero was merely a watcher, a person to keep an eye on the skittering troops working in grim silence.

But they all felt the chill. One of the Hunter's best had been dealt a serious loss, completely by surprise. And since only Bastion had seen his attackers…and he was still being put back together…there wouldn't be any answers from him for a while.

In the meantime, they all knew that in the same situation, they would be in as critical of a condition. 

A Hunter had been taken down. There was no indication to who did it.

"Commander Zero!" Zero swiveled his head to look at Doan, a 17th specialist of gadgetry. Zero dipped his head down slightly and fixated a gaze of stoicness on Doan. 

"What did you find?" Doan shook his head, as glazed as any.

"The reploid in there is dead…period. No second chances, no rebuildings. Whoever attacked him jammed a beam saber INTO HIS SKULL and turned his control chip into silicate slag." Zero shuddered slightly.

Reploid murder. That's what it was.

"Any indication on why someone would attack him?" Doan shrugged.

"Nope. His name was Canark, and he worked maintaining net connections for Tokyo. I can't see any reason for a grudge or even an intense hatred of the company. And he wasn't infected either." Doan finished, referring to the Maverick Virus. 

That made Zero's head hurt.

"So what we have is a reploid working for the betterment of society, for a company people love, who isn't infected, who on the last night of his life went stark raving mad and charged through throngs of people in an attempt to escape a force that even he couldn't name." Doan nodded.

"Thereabouts." Zero sighed.

"I can't make sense of it either. Well, wrap up our friend Canark and let's head home. I'll let X and Cain do the brainwork on this case." Doan nodded, then whistled to his team to give the instructions. 

Zero activated his warp generator and slowly slipped into the strata once more. But aside from getting Canark's remains to HQ, Zero had another important goal.

There was a death vigil to be kept for Bastion.

Back at MHHQ, the majority of everyone was clustered in the dining hall. Quietly whispering amongst small groups, the people of the Hunters waited silently. The TV flickered softly, but it had been muted. Only erratic silence echoed in the halls, and even Cain was morose.

More so than usual, X noted grimly. Cain had always been a bit of a serious individual, but there had been too much happening recently for him to break out of the sad shell. X finally walked over to Cain, who sat, calmly sipping a cup of coffee that had long ago been lukewarm.

"Need a refill, Cain?" X asked softly. Cain shook his head, not looking at the blue Hunter standing above him. X nodded slowly.

Not too many people now wanted much of anything. They were all worried sick about Bastion, or at the least stunned. Grouped in the cafeteria, they waited. Waited for news of Bastion's recovery…

Or his death. In the Hunter's line of business, death was nothing new. But a death like this was rare. As X looked around, he realized the abstract absence of Wycost.

Wycost more than anyone should be here. Perhaps if he was still with the Hunters…

"No." X shook off the thought. It was doubtful that even Wycost, an ex-maverick and hard headed Hunter could have done better in that situation. And blaming his absence for the cause of Bastion's attack was not only stupid, it was hateful. 

Still, it gave X pause. Wycost had made a very big impression on the Hunters during his one year stay, and would always be remembered. 

"Stop it, X." He chastised himself. "Stop talking like Wycost's dead." But what pained him is he didn't know.

Wycost COULD be dead. What if he was the next target for these fiendish attackers?

That made him shudder even more. But he calmed himself down and looked about. 

There WAS one person missing from the cafeteria. And X realized that if she wasn't here…

She probably needed more solace and comfort than anyone.

True enough, X found her in her room. She was dressed in her pink and blue armor, like they had found her only two weeks before. But unlike everyone else, her feelings were all too evident. She was crying.

"Hey." X finally said. Standing in the doorway, it was the only comment he could muster. Bristol looked up, her eyes teary. "I see you heard as well." Bristol blinked, then dabbed her eyes.

"I don't think there's anyone in here who hasn't." Bristol put her tissues away and looked at X. "Before he ran off to get mangled, Bastion was comforting me." Bristol smiled softly, sniffling.

"He's always helped me out, X. No matter what, Bastion always tried his hardest to try and help me." Bristol's face drooped. "And now that the tables are turned, there's nothing I can do to repay the favor." X nodded.

"It's hard to realize that a friend may pass on. I know what you're going through." Bristol raised her hands, then let them fall.

"Yes. You're no stranger to pain, either. You lost Cancer and Zero in the First Maverick Uprising." X shrugged.

"Yeah. But we managed to get Zero back." X stared at her and smiled a bit. "And if I know Bastion, which I do…he'll come back alive and kicking as Zero did." Bristol wiped her eye with a finger.

"But you didn't talk about Cancer. He died, and you never brought him back." X sighed.

"Cancer was a quirky fellow, Bristol. One, he wasn't a Hunter. Secondly, if we brought him back, he'd never forgive us. Wherever he is, it's happier than this place." X stared off for a moment, his features smiling slightly as he thought back on Cancer, how the yellow reploid never stopped smiling.

"Bastion has a reason to come back to us. There's two parts to recovery, Bristol." Bristol looked at X, peering at his face. X continued.

"The first part is rebuilding the body." X pointed to his chest. "But if a person's heart isn't in it, no amount of physical recovery will save them. It's a two part process. Bastion possesses a spirit as fiery and burning as the desert he hails from." X got up.

"For that reason, he'll come out just fine." Bristol slowly bobbed her head up and down. X had alleviated her sorrows, and replaced them with hope. X smiled.

"Come on. We'll drop in on Hazil and see how our friend is doing."

Hazil breathed silently as he put his tools away. His weary arms dragged slightly, and he realized he needed to get some stasis time soon. And soon, he could.

As far as Bastion was concerned, he'd done as much as he was capable of.

"Physical wounds are moderately easy to fix." Hazil grumbled. "Whether or not Bastion is all right is up to the emotional trauma he's sustained." Just then, his door rang. 

Hazil thought about hollering a curse, but he thought better of it and scratched his head.

"Yeah, who izzit?" 

"Hazil, I have someone here who'd like to see the patient." Hazil noted X's calm voice and sighed.

"All right, Blue Boy. Come on in, and drag Bristol with ya." The door slid open with its usual hiss, and X screwed a puzzled look on his face.

"How'd you know it was Bristol?" Hazil yawned, at that point between sleep and duty.

"An educated guess. Anyhoo, I've done all I can. The holes are patched, his systems are running and the wiring is fixed." Hazil turned back and motioned to the pulse monitor, which read Bastion's continual circulation. "From this point, all he needs is some rest and some wakey wakey." Bristol looked past Hazil to Bastion.

His breathing was slow, and his wings were still attached, if pulled back into their stationary position in the pack. The holes in his sides were patched up…truly, you couldn't even tell they had even been there. But the rest of him didn't look too well.

His face still had more pain on it than any person should have to endure, and one arm was draped across his chest while the other dangled loosely. Bristol drew in a ragged breath, and X shook his head.

"Hazil, he looks pretty bad." Hazil glared.

"You should have seen him when he came in, bub. Just be thankful I got him here." X walked over, touched Bastion's shoulder.

"Any long term damage?" Hazil lowered his head.

"His Powerstorm Armor Pack is giving me the most trouble. Its circuits were fried pretty well by that saber wound, and I couldn't warp it off of him. Worst case situation, he'll be stuck wearing that thing until he dies." 

That was an unhappy thought. "Teleport circuits are a delicate thing. If I couldn't do it remotely, it may be up to Bastion to try it manual." 

"Not exactly certain, are you?" Bristol snapped acidulously. Hazil shrugged.

"Mark Twain once said that nothing was certain in life, save death and taxes." Hazil shook his head. "I may be wrong, I've been known to get cranky and mucked up in the head when I've gone on THREE HOURS OF STASIS." X harrumphed for a moment.

"I'd tell you to get some sack time then. You've done all you can to help Bastion, right?" Hazil raised his hands upward, extending the spindly metallic limbs.

"As much as can be done, short of a human sacrifice." Hazil lowered his arms and rolled off into a corner of the Medical Bay. "I'll be in snooze land. Maybe Bastion would like some company there." 

Hazil finally stopped talking, his head drooped down and the lights in his corner went out. Then with ultimate irony, he began to snore. Bristol raised her eyebrows at the sight, then looked at X. X shrugged with a half smile.

"Hey, he's pretty old. Or at least he likes to think he is. It's just something he picked up from Cain." Bristol sighed.

"So now we wait."

"Wait for Bastion to return to the land of living."

"Hey, you awake?" In the heat of midday on the Northern Africa coast, two figures rested in a long forgotten shack. Both reploids, they patiently ran their cycles in quiet thought. But one had decided to break the tedium.

The tall one opened his eyes with a resigned look of annoyance, then yawned and got up from his chair.

"What is it, Allegro?" The short one shrugged with a fiery look.

"I'm getting restless." The tall one shook his head back and forth.

"You'll have to wait. It's not time yet to take this fight all the way." Allegro crossed his arms.

"Like these small attacks we've been doing amount to doodly squat overall. Remind me again, Andante…Why exactly do we keep ourselves so limited?" Andante walked over to the door of their desert shack, walking slowly and pondering his thoughts. Finally, he turned and pulled out his weapon.

He ignited the twin beam saber, watching it pulse a dark blackish purple in the dim light. Andante raised it to eye level, holding it steady in his right hand. He clenched his left hand at his side, and shut his eyes.

"We are like this beam saber, Allegro. Two blades with one mission. In our quest, the hilt from which we emanate has not yet reached full power. Until that time, actions outside of our limited attacks thus far are futile and suicidal. We must bide our time, Allegro. As much as that pains you to take it slow, you have to." Andante extinguished his blade, then slipped it back in the recharger on his back. Allegro sighed.

"So what do we do about the Hunters? They've gotten involved in our operations." Andante nodded slowly.

"Allegro, it's their choice to get involved in our business. We cannot be blamed for the outcome." Allegro grinned from ear to ear, and slowly began to laugh.

His laugh carried across the desert, sounding like little more than the rushing, howling wind.

But it was still enough to send chills down the backs of the nomads whose camp was set up fifteen miles away.

"All right everyone. You can all get back to your duties now…Bastion's gonna live." X spoke with forceful placidness, hoping that he would convince everyone in the Cafeteria.

Luckily, he did. The Hunters shuffled off, one depressive disaster averted.

But that still didn't stop the fact that there was a twenty six day timer on their heads. As the room quieted down, Zero walked up to X and folded his arms.

"So how bad was it?" X blinked.

"He should live. But if Hazil's fears are confirmed, he'll be stuck with those Powerstorm Wings on his back forever." Zero swore.

"Figures. Jam a blazing blade of contained plasma into circuitry, and watch the devastation reign. There are times I wish Hunters were immune." X shook his head.

"Oh, but we're not. In any case, we need to get back to normal schedule." 

"Yeah. No sense in doing any more digging on Bastion's attack until he's up and running. He's the only witness. Jad, Kol and Gavin reached him too late to stop the attack." 

"So Zero, whacha gonna do now?" X sighed. Zero scratched his helmet and pulled out his saber.

"Time for some practice in the workout room. Care to join me?" X shrugged.

"Simulation, danger level nada. If that's the parameters, I'll be more than happy to." Zero guffawed.

"And after that, we'll bash each other senseless with plushies." X shook his head.

"Not funny, Zero." Zero nodded.

"Yeah, I know. Nothing's gonna be funny for a while yet."

"The Maverick Hunters now have a total of twenty six days remaining before the Global Defense Council takes action on their ultimatum, passed five days ago. But even as the clock winds down, they keep busy with a variety of tasks and problems."

Horn watched with semi-interest, if only because he liked to hear the Hunters were being flushed down the drain at long last. And the lady on the worldwide CNN wasn't half bad looking.

"You're darn right, gallie!" Horn finally guffawed. "Sigma's gone, and so's the threat. Time for URFAWP to take over!" The reporter on his large screen paid no attention to him.

"But there is a more recent and disturbing part of this tale. Last night, the Hunters were dispatched into Tokyo itself to stop a crazed reploid running amok. Leading the small team was Commander Bastion, a recent addition to the Hunters and also partially responsible for the success at the end of the Fifth Maverick Uprising more than a year ago." The reporter blinked, flustered at the next tidbit she was to read. Horn saw the slight change in her demeanor and raised his sunglasses. Whatever came next had to be pretty interesting.

"Commander Bastion was attacked on that jaunt, and severely wounded. The Maverick Hunters have yet to release details on the extent of the damage, and what caused it. We'll bring more news to you on that story when it comes in. Now we go to Bob, with an update on the Presidential elec…"

Horn flipped his TV off, once more stunned.

"Sheeze. Now they're even getting attacked?" Horn kicked his feet up and flipped his glasses down. Genuine late 20th Century Blue Blockers, they were highly valued as a collector's item. "Oh, the life of a Hunter is a dangerous one." 

At the moment, there was no one in the world that could disagree with him.

"No, WE ARE NOT GIVING INTERVIEWS!" Cain hollered into his telephone. He slammed it down with a finalizing thud, and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. Hazil had finally give him a bunch of his own, if only so the reploid doctor could get some sleep.

That was when Jad, Kol and Gavin came walking in, their hands tightly clutching the reports from last night's jaunt in Tokyo's warehouse district.

"Hey, boss. Wassup?" Jad said calmly. His voice was slightly cheerier than it had been before, and Cain guessed that it was because of the happy news they'd gotten about Bastion's surgery. Cain motioned for the reports, and they forked them over in the same manner. Cain sighed.

"Remind me. We monitor calls to news organizations, right?" Gavin nodded.

"Yup. And even then, you have to have either you or X or Zero give a confirmation code to the demn thing just to make the call." Cain nodded.

"Exactly. So anyhoo, here's what I'm getting at, fellas. Siddown for a moment." The trio plopped into Cain's chairs, watching Cain with open eyes, but leaving their feet dangling haphazardly over the sides.

"Someone tipped off CNN to the fact that last night, you all and Bastion went chasing after that one reploid."

"Canark." Gavin corrected. Cain shrugged.

"Canark, right. Anyhoo, because of that one thing, my phone's been flooded with calls from every blasted newsie under the sun, looking for that special quote or tidbit no one else has. AND IT'S RIDING UP MY ARSE. Any suggestions?" Kol chortled, then silenced himself. Cain looked up.

"Whaddya got, Kol?" Kol shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just too mean." But he started to giggle with a huge grin, and Jad folded his arms.

"Kol, spill it." Kol stopped giggling and wiped his blurry optics.

"Are you guys sure?" Gavin nodded.

"REALLY sure?" Kol asked again, still grinning from ear to ear. Jad leapt out of his seat and began to mercilessly rub Kol's helmet into his head.

"Trust me, Kol. We wanna hear it." Kol squirmed and finally escaped Jad's death noogie.

"All right, all right! Here's what I'm thinking." 

When he was done, they were all rolling on the floor. Save Cain, who had enough dignity to remain in his chair while he laughed himself silly.

"Oh yes. We gotta do that!" Cain finished.

As luck would have it, his phone rang at that very moment. Cain shushed the giggling trio and set his phone to speakers. Now they could all hear and speak to whoever was calling.

"Hello, you've reached the Maverick Hunters. Doctor James Cain speaking, how may I help you?" Cain managed to erk out. Kol chortled a bit, but covered his mouth so he only shook uncontrollably.

"Hello, Doctor Cain? This is Marles Coralt of ABC News, 21/21. I was wondering if you would be able to furnish me with any information about that attack on Commander Bastion last night." Cain 'herrmmmmed' for a moment, then snapped his fingers.

"Well, lemme see what I can dig up here." At that moment, Cain hit the record switch on his sound recorder. If this worked, Jad Kol and Gavin would have saved him heartaches galore. Cain began to make a lot of shuffling noises with the Trio's reports, and Kol began to open and slam Cain's file cabinets. Cain continued to mutter for a moment, pretending to be fully engrossed in his search for data.

"Well, let's see. Aww, shoot." Cain said finally. "Hold on a moment, will ya? KOL, GAVIN! Can you come in here for a moment?" Kol and Gavin began to stomp their feet loudly, imitating the noise of tromping boots running into Cain's office.

"Wassup boss?" Gavin said placidly, a perfect opposite of the wide grin on his face.

"Boys, I have this nice person on the phone from a news organization, and well, I need some information on Commander Bastion. Can you help me look for some?"

"Sure thing boss!" Kol said enthusiastically. 

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you. You hear that, newsperson? We're gonna have some stuff for you soon enough here." Cain and the trio began to make shuffling noises once more, banging about the office with as much efficiency as they could muster.

"Hey Cain! I found something!" Kol finally yelled from the opposite side of the room. It was loud enough for the recorder and the reporter to pick up quite audibly.

"What is it, Kol?" Cain asked loudly.

"It's a report about the time Commander Bastion saved the world from nuclear fallout in the middle of the Fifth Maverick Uprising!" Cain clicked his teeth.

"No, that's not it. Keep looking fellas!" More noise.

"Cain, here's something. It's a report on how Bastion saved the entire 18th Unit by taking out the command module of a robotic tank squad."

"No, no, no!" Cain said. "This newsperson has been waiting patiently for news about YESTERDAY." A long pause, and then a unison comment from Kol and Gavin.

"Oohhhh…you got it, Cain." More shuffling.

"Aha! Boys, I've found it." Cain cleared his throat. "Bastion was keeping the world safe for all, on the night before away from the mall." Kol continued, pretending to read from the same sheet Cain held.

"Bastion made sure Canark was all right, that's the reploid he was chasing, for you doofs out of sight." Gavin finished.

"However, Bastion got clobbered, completely by surprise, so for all the newsies in happy day skies…Realize for a moment we'd like some release!" And then they joined in a unison phrase.

"This recording was made by Maverick Hunters, PROTECTORS OF PEACE!" Cain flipped the connection off, and then the recorder.

Then they all laughed at long last. Cain dabbed his eyes.

"Oh, thank you all boys. Laughing makes me feel a whole lot younger than I am." Gavin chuckled.

"Some of us reploids would give anything to be considered ancient. I mean, reploids are as a race, how old? Less than ten years? X and Hazil hold claim to the longest surviving ancients. We're so unloved." 

"Age brings two things alone, fellows." Cain sniffled. "Wisdom, and a really huge corn on your big toe. SO APPRECIATE YOUTH!"

The office of James Cain became a battlefield of its own on that philisophical discussion for the next thirty minutes.

Things had returned to normal.

For Cain, at least. But in Hazil's office, things were about the same. 

Hazil woke up from his semi-peaceful slumber, blinked once and unfolded his arms. Twelve hours had passed, and it was now late at night.

Rolling over to his recuperating patient, he saw that Bastion hadn't moved an inch. A quick check of the bed's internal scanners showed that the Arabic Hunters hadn't moved out of stasis the entire time Hazil had been asleep.

"Crap." Hazil muttered. This was bad news indeed. He pulled out his scanner, flipped it on and ran a check of Bastion's control chip.

It was undamaged, but a crucial pathway had been shot to hell. A pathway that allowed Bastion to control his stasis cycles, and more importantly, in his incapacitation allowed it to run on a simple nine hour frequency. 

In human terms, Bastion was in a coma. Hazil shut his scanner off and shook his head.

"Crap." That was all he could say as he slipped his scanner back into his chest compartment. "Crap crap crap." Hazil pushed his hair back and quietly brought up his memory of what was to be done with reploids when they entered a zombified state.

"Well Bastion, you have another twelve hours to try and solve the problem on your own. Then we get to do one of two things…end your life forever, the humane way about it, or we reformat your entire mind. Erase it all, start from scratch. And while you are a total blank, everyone else gets to suffer with the fact that the Bastion they know and trust is no more." Hazil waited silently, pleading with the Hunter to do something. To extend a limb, to mumble a bit. Anything to reverse the diagnosis.

But Bastion was as silent as he'd ever been. A mind whose last moments of activation had been tarnished by pain and the possibility of death, and a body who even when patched could not help the ruined circuitry that the original injury's intensity had caused. 

Hazil sniffled back a tear, then rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bastion. I tried. I really really did try to save you." Hazil clenched his fist. "And in the end, I failed as miserably as I did with Bolt Eagle." Hazil turned off the medical bed's scanner, conserving its power.

Bastion was as good as dead. And Hazil once again had a mind filled with doubts about himself. He rolled out of the Medical Bay and shut the lights off.

"What good am I anymore, if I can't even save a life?"

X, Zero and Bristol were crowded about a table in the Cafeteria of the Hunter Base, quietly chewing on their food. Bristol had a light Caesar Salad, X was munching on a Club Sandwich, and the ever predictable Zero was chewing on a five pound slab of steak…no silverware.

Bristol frowned in disgust as tiny bits of Zero's food were flung from the hulking meat in his hands. X shrugged, and kept his eyes on his own sandwich. 

Finally, Bristol sighed.

"Is that thing healthy for you?" Zero stopped gnawing on his meat and looked up. He looked at Bristol and grinned devilishly from ear to ear.

"I'm a reploid. Whatever I chew up goes down me gullet and into el Fusion Tankeros. Instant kapoof, energy it becomes. Happy I am that I can chew on a whole lot of meat at a time." X put his sandwich down and pointed a thumb at Zero while looking at Bristol.

"Oh, don't mind him. There's a reason he stays away from sugary pastries." Bristol raised her eyebrows.

"Oh? Why is that, luv?" X grinned.

"One time this doof had the gall to challenge me. The item in question was marshmallow chicks. Namely, how many can a reploid eat safely?" X rolled back and kicked his feet onto the table, sighing happily. Zero muttered a Swedish Curse and returned to his meat slab.

"Oh, I think this one must be humiliating." Bristol grinned. "Do tell!" She set her head onto her smallish hands and peered at X. X chuckled.

"Oh yes. So anyhow, we got Hazil to stay with us, in case this got dangerous. Then we picked up about ten CASES of marshmallow chicks from our local 'Shop N Save' and set down to business. This being a slow time in between Sigma's Second Appearance and The Doppler Incident, every Hunter had a bet going on who would win. If marshmallow chicks proved to be our downfall, Zero won. If not, I did." X leaned back even more, closing his eyes.

"So the big day came. Between the two of us was this ten foot tall pile of marshmallow chicks, all unboxed and unwrapped. Yellows, pinks and whites, chicks of every color and one uniform size. Hazil started the buzzer, and the chanting began. No hoots and hollers like you'd expect. Just a continual count of the number of chicks we were scarfing. One at a time, the two of us downing them at a speed so constant it would get boring. Were it not for the two of us throwing insults and challenges at one another, it would have gotten boring in a hurry. And THEN…The conclusion." X paused, then went on.

"The count was at 287 Marshmallow Chicks between the both of us. Well, we decided eating them plain was getting boring in a hurry, so we tried to spice it up. Alter the form if you will. We burned them into crisps with small Buster emissions, expanded them and tore them limb from tiny sugary limb, and then the FUN ONE. We stuck them a liquid and dissolved the buggers. In this form, it got crazy. We drank the liquid down just fine, but there was residue that remained in our voice synthesizers at the upper portions of our throats. Sugar that isn't in water or another solution is a terrible conductor, so when we dried out, that blasted sugar coating short circuited our voices. BOTH OF THEM." X grinned. "Boy, Hazil spent four hours cleaning our voices out. And just to get back at us, while he was fiddling we changed our voices to sounds like midgets." Bristol blinked.

"Midgets?" Zero guffawed.

"Think of it like this. Nothing but 'WE REPRESENT, THE LOLLIPOP GUILD!' a hundred times over and not as fun. We got Cain to fix it back to normal, but we always knew from that point on any kind of prank we pulled like that that resulted in Hazil having to do something WOULD BE BAD." X took over for him.

"A shootout with water pistols? Hazil would make our Busters shoot H20 in training sessions. A footrace that resulted in a helmet being smashed into the wall? Hazil would make the helmet look like a dunce cap. Hazil definitely has a bizarre, if not perfectly blended sense of humor in his reach." 

"Speaking of Hazil…" Bristol interrupted. They all looked over to see the doc on wheels roll into the Cafeteria with a defeated look on his face. 

"What the…" Zero began. Bristol raised a hand, her face turning to dread.

"I don't like the feeling I'm getting from his less than dapper mood." X nodded.

"Yeah. Come on then. Let's see what pushed our usually grumpy friend to extreme depression."

The three of them got up and walked over to Hazil. Zero whistled loudly, bringing Hazil's attention to bear.

"Hey, Hazil. Coming out to scarf something? I'm buying." Zero said. Hazil shook his head.

"Better make it a drink. Double Scotch, if this waterhole has it." Zero furrowed his eyebrows.

"Double scotch? That's pretty strong." Hazil nodded.

"Exactly. It ain't a happy hour effect I'm going for." X crossed his arms.

"What happened?" Hazil frowned.

"Is this going to be twenty questions? I have better things to do than answer 'em." X nodded.

"I'm sure you do. Just answer one: What is making you sad?" Hazil finally slammed his hands to his side, clenching them into fists.

"FINE!" The outburst came noticed by everyone, as the cafeteria grew silent. Now Hazil and company were the center of attention.

"You wanna know what's bothering me, X? I'll tell you. I just got up from a not very satisfactory stasis period, only to find that our plucky friend Bastion had NOT. You know why? Because with all pain he'd undergone during the attack, he fried a crucial circuit in his head that controls his stasis patterns. In other words for the vocabularly challenged, HE'S IN A COMA. I can't bring him out of it. I may be able to fix the physical wounds, but I just can't go messing with his head. It's against regulations, and even more so against my beliefs as a doctor. So now at the end of a twelve hour period from now, the Hunters have a choice. Destroy Bastion's Control Chip and have a memorial service, or let me dig in his skull, fix the glitch and forever eliminate what makes Bastion Bastion." Hazil finally released his fixed grip and sighed.

"The ending choice of course lies with the entire mass of the Hunters. At this point in time, I'm not a doctor any longer. I'm nothing more than a worthless reploid who can't save lives, and has to resort to killing them." Hazil rolled up to a table and slammed his fist down. "Scotch, rocks. NOW."

Dead silence, and then slowly the conversations started again. The entire day had been an iffy event, not knowing whether to grieve for Bastion or hold out hope. 

There was no more fuzzy gray area. X shook his head.

"I am really gonna miss the guy, Zero." Zero nodded.

"Yeah, I know. We'll all miss him."

"Even Wycost."

"If Wycost was here, yes. But he's not here anymore. He'll have to suffer about the loss later." X blinked away a tear that was beginning to form. He looked around, then blinked again.

"Where did Bristol go?" Zero looked around on his own, then shrugged.

"Away. Just let her be alone for now."

But Bristol wasn't entirely alone. 

In the Medical Bay, darkness and silence were the only two prevalent forces, save for the timid lights of the few active medical instruments. None of them were currently running scans on the sleeping Bastion, forever doomed to death. 

Then a new sound approached. The door to the rest of the HQ slid open with its usual hiss, and then a darkened form walked in. The door shut, and once more silence claimed the room. 

The neon green lights barely illuminated Bastion. It did less for the frame of Bristol, head bowed down, hair dangling across her shoulders, tear glistening in the corner of her eye. Gently, she raised a trembling hand from her side and brought it up to Bastion's.

"Hey." Bristol finally managed to say, eliminating the tremble from her voice. She waited, but Bastion didn't respond. She sniffed back a tear, then began to stroke his hand.

"It was pretty stupid of you to go off and get attacked like that, you know." Bristol's other hand clenched up. "I'm sorry, Bastion. I'm sorry that there's nothing I can do to help you." She moved closer to his sleeping form, putting his hand up onto his stomach.

"You were always there for me, Bastion. On that same night where you were hurt, you helped me reach past the sadness within." She shut her eyes, clearing her blurry optics. "Why is it then that I can do nothing to repay the favor?" 

Still more silence. Bristol sniffed again.

"I know you're only sleeping. You're in a deep sleep, Bastion. But you're not dead. If there's any part of you that wants to stay alive, I'm pleading with it to wake you up." Bristol brought her teary face down to his. "Please, Bastion. I don't want to be alone again. Please…" 

But her pleas did nothing. She blinked out her eyes, letting the water droplets fall onto Bastion's weary face. "So that's it then." But she could not bring herself to leave Bastion.

Bristol sat on a chair close by, and pushing away the dark sadness that welled up within her, quietly slipped into stasis.

More silence.

But even silence cannot last forever. Beside Bristol, the comatose form of Bastion slowly stirred to life. His eyes fluttered open, and he yawned for a moment. Then he looked around.

Hazil was gone, but there was someone else in the Bay. He picked himself up from the cot, and looked around. A quick self diagnostic showed that although there had been a flaw in his internal circuitry, it had repaired itself as if by magic.

"Odd." Bastion frowned. The scan continued to show that the automatic warp circuits of his Powerstorm wings were shot. "Oh, well. Manual override, Command Code Zeta Three Fox." The wings bleeped in response, and the pack vanished from his back. He walked over and found himself looking at the sleeping form of Bristol.

"Now what is she doing here?" Bastion brought his hand up and traced the lines of her face, tear streaked as they were. "Looks like you've had some down time there." He looked over. "Maybe the sound recorders in here can give me a clue."

The automatic sound recorders in the Medical Bay picked up ambient sound when more than two figures were detected inside. And they had recorded the events in the Medical Bay while he had been asleep.

His eyes were brimming with tears five minutes later, when he had discovered all that had happened. He walked back over to Bristol, and sat down beside her. Shutting his eyes, he nodded.

"Don't worry Bristol. I'll never leave you alone." And then he went into stasis.

Only this time, he was in control.


	9. Confronting The Nightmares

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Eric Lawson

CHAPTER SEVEN: CONFRONTING THE NIGHTMARES

Bastion awoke with a start, a sudden intake of breath his only indication of fright. His eyes flew wide open, and he scanned the room fearfully. He blinked, then began to breathe deeply. In his last few moments of stasis, Bastion had dreamed a pair of figures were charging at him. Their eyes spouted fire, their hands were misshapen clawed things.

And the fact that they both held lit twin beam sabers didn't help much. Bastion shook his head, instinctively reaching down to feel the wounds of that horrible night.

They were still patched up. He finally stopped his panic attack and shook his head.

"A dream based on truth is far more frightening than a surreal one." He looked over, to see Bristol still dozing, completely unaware of the fact that he was up and running…

And fully aware of how important his existence was to her. It sent a twinge down his spine, an odd sense that he couldn't identify.

It was fear and joy, elation and frustration. It was a potent mix of every radical emotional response he knew. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shrug it off. It hung over him like a cloud, a cloud with a silver lining and a storm within.

He got up to his feet, and gently reached a hand down to touch Bristol's shoulder. He shook it gently, not enough to jar her awake, but enough to make her stasis cycle ask if she was done sleeping.

"Bristol, you up?" Bastion smiled softly and shook her again. "Hey, Bristol. Wake up already, eh? It's seven bleeding O' Clock."

Bristol stirred softly, her mind slowly reactivating all the way. Her main processor took over and she stretched her limbs out, making them move after a prolonged period of misuse. She shook her hair back, and finally opened her weary, bleary eyes.

Then they shot wide open in surprise. Bristol looked up at Bastion in befuddlement, and then it switched to elation.

"Bastion, YOU'RE ALIVE!" Bastion chuckled.

"Of course I am. Hazil fixed all my wounds up as good as new." A wince of painful memories shot into his head, and he hid the frown.

Maybe not all of them. There was still the psychological damage. 

Bristol leapt to her feet, now smiling broadly, her eyes beginning to glitter in the Medical Bay's lights with the moisture they held. Taking not a second's pause, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"Bastion, we were all afraid we lost you last night." She finally said, a slight tremble in her happy voice. Bastion blinked, trying to think back to his first diagnostic scan.

"Would this possible threat involve the fact my stasis circuits were out on the blink?" Bristol nodded.

"You were in a coma, Bastion." That made the proud Hunter shudder. A coma was not a nice thing, and when it came to both humans and reploids, it almost always lead to death. He had been very lucky.

"So how'd I snap out of it, then?" Bastion frowned. Bristol backed away and shook her head. Then it dawned on Bastion.

"Maybe it wasn't the wiring that woke me up." He blinked. "Last night, you pleaded with me to wake up." He ran a hand through his hair, realizing the full implications of his recovery. "And then I did. Bristol, science can't explain how I woke up." He lowered his hands and let his mouth slip into a half smile.

"But somehow I feel as if you played a very big part in it."

They looked at each other in a giddy stupor for what seemed like eternity.

And then the door hissed open. A grumbling Hazil rolled in, his head down.

"All right, Bristol. Let's leave the dead be for now. I have to get prepped." Bastion's face went super wide with a smile as he put his hands onto his hips, pushing himself to a full stance of pride.

"And just who's dead, Hazil?" Hazil's head shot up in the same stunned disbelief that Bristol's had, and his face went chalk white.

"Oh, sweet Malpractice settlements…BASTION!" Hazil backed away for a moment, his disbelieving eyes running a search over all the cots in the Bay. Hazil gasped one last time, then clutched his chest.

"There's no body lying where I left it, so I'm not seeing ghosts." Hazil raised his other hand, trembling as it was and pointed at the smiling Hunter. "But…Bastion, you were one fried puppy! You were stuck in a coma, AND I COULDN'T PULL YOU OUT OF IT!" Bastion chuckled.

"Someone obviously saved my bacon then. And I think she was the one to do it." Bastion motioned with his head of hair to the smiling Bristol. Hazil frowned, now at last over his stunned discovery. 

"Bristol? How could she pull you from the great beyond?" Bristol shrugged, still smiling.

"I asked him to come back." Hazil raised his eyebrows, trying to correlate her statement with his personal memories. 

"That's something no civilization or scientist has ever been fully able to explain in scientific terms." Hazil nodded, still disbelieving the most rational theory behind his recovery. "But religion has been able to take a few cracks at it, as jumbled and illogical as it can get at times." 

He finally shook his head.

"Bastion, you nearly gave me a heart attack there. I suggest you go and take your friend Bristol, and go get chummy with all your pals again. They'll be as shocked as I was." Bastion grinned.

"Wow. A chance to walk out of here and be among the living? I'll take it!" Bastion and Bristol tromped out of the Medical Bay, all smiles at long last.

But Hazil had a different thing to do at the moment.

Rationalize the impossible. He rolled over to his desk and lowered his frame down. Setting his head in his hands, he shut his eyes.

"It's been thought for a while now that people have guardian angels." He opened his optics. "Why should reploids be any different?" He looked over to his door, then looked back to his computer. Work to do.

"Bastion, I have an odd feeling that Bristol's presence in your life has become far more therapeutic than any surgery I can undertake." He grunted. "But at least I'm still a doc." He grinned. "The patient lived."

"Hey, have some praise for the walking dead here!" Bastion laughed loudly as he stepped out of the door of the Medical Bay. Grim faces registered shock at the outburst, and then they all turned. Some slowly, some in a massive spin of power. But all who walked the hallways of HQ were stunned beyond belief. 

Then the happiness sank in. One by one, the Hunters and technicians and support crews all grinned from ear to ear. Some laughed loudly, some cried. Others shook their heads, too stunned to smile. 

Bastion had returned from the dead. And then just to be sure, Bastion's comm buzzed.

"Bastion? You there?" It was X. Bastion slapped the tiny comm on his wrist and returned the verbal response.

"I think so, unless this is all a dream. Which I doubt, because my side still hurts a little." X whistled loudly, then laughed.

"My God. Hear that Cain? Our plucky friend is alive and well after all! Pop the corks on the Champagne and call CNN. They have a story to swallow. One in which we are all happy fellows." Cain came on the line, grumbling slightly.

"On a more serious note, Bastion…now that you're back, I'll need you to come down to my office and tell us what you can recall of your attackers. Jad, Kol and Gavin arrived far too late to identify anything about it." Bastion's happy expression clouded over as he grimaced.

It wasn't a happy memory he kept from that incident, and it still scared him. For that one brief moment two nights ago, his skills had failed him, and he was almost destroyed. They had spared him only because superior forces approached them that night. 

If he had been alone…

There would be no Bastion. He would be dead. End of story. And their words haunted him.

"You should have never gotten in our way, Hunter…" Bastion knew it within him. He was a marked man. From this point on, he'd always have to watch himself. They might be after him.

"Bastion?" Bastion blinked and brought himself back to reality. Bristol looked up at him, a face of concern easily visible. "Bastion, you looked a bit zonkered right there. You all right?" Bastion nodded slowly.

"I'll be all right. Gotta get to Cain's. You coming along?" Bristol smiled.

"Always."

Wycost had been a bit more secluded than usual. Ever since the great leader of URFAWP himself had called every single locale to announce the Hunter's Ultimatum, he'd been like that. 

"Twenty Five Days." Wycost muttered softly. "Twenty five fargin days until the Hunters go belly up." Leaning on the table, Wycost didn't bother to touch his breakfast. He didn't need it, really. It was just one of the things that URFAWP and the Hunters did to try and make reploids feel more human. Using his fork, he pushed the runny eggs around his tray, not really looking at them, but letting his sunglass covered eyes stare off into space.

Wycost wished he could call Bastion, just to see if things were still all right. But he was in URFAWP, and URFAWP didn't allow outside calls or communications. The 'team leaders' kept saying it was to keep the reploids focused on their mission of peace.

"It's a way for them to keep in control. Team leaders? Bastion and I would both know they're master sergeants." 

Isaiah chose that time to plop down beside his moody friend. He frowned as he saw Wycost's uneaten food.

"Wycost, you've been like this for six days. It's time you stopped moping about and got back to being your normal grouchy self." Wycost ignored him, and Isaiah glared even more angrily. "Hey, are you even listening to me?!" 

Still no response from Wycost. So Isaiah chose the direct approach. He flung his hand out with lightning speed, snatched Wycost's ever present shades from his head and held them aloof from his compatriot. 

That made Wycost move. He leapt up, his fists clenched as his body morphed into a fighting pose.

"Watch it bub." Wycost growled. "No one messes with my shades and gets away with it." Isaiah frowned and crossed his arms, still holding the shades with one pair of fingers.

"Just great. You've even regressed. Tell me, Wycost: Why is it that your first reaction to any situation is a violent one?" Wycost's flaring eyes snuffed themselves out, and he blinked for a moment. 

He looked around the mess tent. Everyone else had silenced themselves, quietly looking at the display with a cross between scorn, sadness and annoyance. 

Wycost let his body relax, releasing the tension in his limbs. Unclenching his hands, he sat back down. Isaiah snorted.

"See? That wasn't so hard." Isaiah dropped the glasses back on the table, where Wycost snatched them back up. Putting them back on, Wycost looked around the room, silently challenging anyone watching to make a move.

The room resumed its normal activities, and Isaiah sat back down.

"Wycost, you aren't in the Hunters any more. You're in URFAWP, and URFAWP's number one objective is to stop violence…not create it." Wycost shrugged.

"I left the Hunters because there was no place for me there anymore." Wycost took off his glasses and looked deeply into Isaiah's face. "Two reasons I was no longer welcome: I didn't get promoted, and I didn't have a purpose there anymore. The flame in my heart that was my drive to destroy the mavericks left me." Isaiah nodded.

"Why did the flame die?" Wycost sighed.

"Revenge for my dead friends could only go so far, Isaiah. It took a year after I finished what I set out to do to realize it, but I did." Wycost slipped his glasses back on. 

"Once Sigma had been destroyed, my penance was paid. I saved the world from the fate my friends suffered. After that was done…" Wycost shrugged. "The motivation was gone." Isaiah nodded sagely.

"War is caused by hatred. Without it, you could no longer wage war." Wycost finally took a sip of his black coffee.

"Exactly. So I decided to come here." Wycost grimaced, both at the bitter drink and the situation. "And I've discovered I don't belong here either, Isaiah. I think the least I can do is leave URFAWP, return to the HQ and say hello to my friends before I vanish from public view." Isaiah frowned.

"What?! Leave URFAWP?" Wycost nodded.

"War was the only thing I was good at. Now that I am no longer a part of that, what am I good for? Isaiah, I was a fool to think peace would be something I was good at." Isaiah ruffled his hair.

"All right, fine. But make me this one promise, Wycost." Wycost finally focused his full attention on the plucky reploid of wisdom. "We're next in line to be shipped off to Calcutta five days from now. Stay in URFAWP until that mission is over with. If you still feel the same after doing actual fieldwork…I won't hold it against you. Hell, I'll even resign with you." Wycost frowned.

"I thought you liked URFAWP more, Isaiah." Isaiah shrugged. 

"Wycost, I've been hanging with you for a while now. And I know within the pit of my being that were I to keep my eyes off you for even a second, you'd manage to goof up and get yerself hurt." Wycost chuckled a bit, and Isaiah stuck out his hand. "Five more days?"

Wycost grasped Isaiah's hand firmly, shaking it.

"Five more days, Isaiah." Wycost grinned. "Then all bets are off."

"There were two of them." Bastion said solemnly. With the voice recorder going, X, Zero, Cain and Bristol listened intently to his monologue. The Trio had met with Bastion, but had opted to get some more training in at the rec room instead of going to Cain's office. "I didn't even notice their approach, because the first time I realized they were there was when one of them spoke up." Bastion's brow was furrowed, his eyes shut. His teeth gritted occasionally, for the memory of that night was powerful within him. 

Cain sat placidly, his only indication of emotion the stance of his hands on his desk. Zero leaned up against a wall, listening for the description. X pondered his time with a hand pulling on his chin, and Bristol had her arms folded as she stood, ears focused on his voice.

"I turned with my blade lit. I deflected the first one's slice, but then he attacked with the other end of his saber. Both him and his cohort had TWIN beam sabers. No matter how well I could manage against one blade in my surprise…two was too much. He gashed my side with the upswipe, which sent me sprawling to the ground." Bastion took in a ragged breath, his head shaking angrily. "Then the monster jammed one end of his weapon into my stomach like an overglorified spear." Bastion wiped his eyes.

"Had the Trio gotten to me even a few seconds later, they would have found me in the same condition as the reploid who had run from me."

"Canark." Zero harrumphed softly. Bastion nodded slowly, his face filled with pain. 

"That's all I remember. Then they warped me back to HQ and Hazil stuck me in stasis for emergency surgery." Cain waited a brief moment, then turned the recorder off. He placed his chin into his clenched hands and breathed through his nose, pondering the clues. X finally spoke up.

"A pair of figures, presumably reploid, armed with twin beam sabers."

"Tinted dark purple, almost black." Bastion added. 

Zero's eyes flared intensely for a moment, and one of his fists slammed into the wall. Everyone in the office looked over to him, and the flash of recognition on his face.

"What is it, Zero?" Cain asked softly. Zero blinked for a moment, then nodded his head.

"Bastion's attackers sound remarkably like that mysterious pair of reploids that have been popping in on some of our recent missions. One taller than the other, and they both carry TWIN beam sabers. And even the same tint as Bastion described in their blades." X perused that thought.

"You know, TWIN beam sabers isn't exactly an accurate term. I suggest we start calling it a beam staff." Zero nodded angrily.

"Anyhoo, X! Even their attitudes correllate with Bastion's account. Cocky, self centered and all important. Always saying we get in the way. Bastion's attackers said that." Bastion suddenly felt a sense of dread envelop him, and then it all seemed to fall into place.

"That could be them." He finally uttered. Cain shrugged.

"It's the best we have to go on, anyways. And now we know they present a serious threat." Cain nodded. "It all seems to fit. We have two reploids armed with rather nasty beam saber weapons, going after mavericks, Hunters and regular reploids alike." Cain shook his head, his eyes wide open. "Hunters, this is more than a maverick threat. This is a threat of SERIAL KILLERS. Highly dangerous, ultimately unpredictable, and with no trail to follow." Cain suddenly felt his head begin to throb. "This is without chalking up the other cases in Tokyo that we've found of reploids with their heads melted by saber wounds." He looked around the room grimly. "I think it's safe to say they stand a very good chance of being responsible for those as well."

"So now we have to find them." X said softly. Cain nodded. 

"It's the Hunter's top priority, X. Without Sigma or the Maverick Virus to threaten earth, it seems our last days of existence will take on a different role." Cain looked around, then winced and put a hand to his head. "You all shuffle on out of here now. I got a headache, and you're all good boys and girls, able to accomplish this." 

They gave him the respect he requested and pushed off from his room. In the silence, Cain swallowed another aspirin tablet and breathed deeply.

"Twenty five days." Cain shook his head. "Nothing is clear anymore. Not even who our enemy is."

"I feel it is imperative to warn the honorable delegates of the Global Defense Council about the danger that the entire reploid race holds to humanity!" Cristoph said loudly. In yet another biweekly session of the GDC, the leader of the reploid haters in their ranks was once more grandstanding, waving his arms furiously despite his age.

"Disbanding the Hunters was a logical step to ensure humanity's survival, but it is far from the last. If we are to continue on fruitfully, earth must realize that creating reploids in the first place was a terrible idea, and that we must correct this error by halting all production of reploids." That set up a loud murmur in the chambers. Gorab, head of the GDC, had to bang his gavel several times to halt the rumblings. Setting his icy gaze on Cristoph, he shook his head.

"Representative Cristoph, I think the majority of the GDC and the WORLD, for that matter would disagree with you. Reploids are a valued part of our society in the world, plagued with the same problems humanity holds." Cristoph held his ground, staunchly standing in the center of the arena. Gorab continued, letting his powerful voice carry over everyone.

"Reploids are able to perform tasks in dangerous situations, far beyond humanity's ability to do so. They have created some of the greatest scientific theories of all time with their combination of human ingenuity and processing speeds, and they serve the world community as faithfully as humans do."

"But-" Cristoph started abruptly. Gorab silenced him with a mighty slam of his wooden hammer.

"I am not finished, Councilor." Gorabracked his knuckles, and bored his flaring eyes down into the white haired man. "Humanity is no better than they are. Some members of our race naturally are more violent than others. In this day and age, street gangs still walk about with their protection rackets, and serial killers are as prevalent as ever. The difference between reploids and humans is this; They become violent towards society for two reasons. One, they are infected with the Maverick Virus, and then the commands to wreak havoc are hardwired into them. Or two, prejudiced humans and prejudiced society pushes them over the brink."

"If I may speak, sir-" The Turkish Councilwoman Seenam spoke up. Gorab nodded his head at her. Seenam tilted her head at the now fuming Cristoph and focused.

"Cristoph, all of the GDC agreed that with the threat of the Maverick Uprisings ceased, the Hunters were a dangerous commodity. That part of your regimen we carried out efficiently, because we felt it important. But if you believe the only way to move on now is to doom a race that is tarnished only by acts it was forced into doing because of intense hatred, then you live a secluded life. Perhaps it would be better if we all wore tan with Swastikas and started saluting you, HERR Cristoph?" Seenam's fiery voice carried over, and the room now stood completely hushed. Seenam continued.

"Many years ago, it would not have been possible for me to represent my country. Women were still viewed in my society as inferiors." Seenam nodded. "Times have changed, Cristoph. Reploids are not the danger in the world now. The danger is hatred and prejudice." Cristoph's face shook angrily, the blood boiling within to turn him a beet red. Seenam finally smoothed her dress down and shook her head.

"I think we have all heard enough talk about this issue of Cristoph's. Agreed?" A unison hand tally in the GDC clinched it, and Gorab motioned for Cristoph to sit down. But even as he walked back to his seat, his heart bubbled with rage for these fools.

"Oh, you're all wrong." Cristoph growled softly. "You're all wrong."

"So, our dear buddy Bastion returns at last!" Zero chortled. With his X-Buster activated, he stepped away from the target range to meet with Bastion, and the ever present Bristol. 

Bastion ruffled his hair back and looked about the Rec Room of the HQ with a wistful smile.

"Been a while since I've been here." Zero shrugged.

"A few days. And let me tell you, I'm glad you're back. Keeping tabs on the 21st is NOT my idea of a fun time. Especially those three new ones I recommended to your Unit-you know, the Trio." Bastion raised an eyebrow.

"Jad, Kol, and Gavin? They acting up again?" Zero wiped a thin layer of sweat from his brow, finally taking off his helmet.

"Let's just say they're not the most predictable of people." Bastion sighed.

"Even then Zero, they're still good." Zero nodded.

"Yep. You do well by your Unit, Bastion." Zero looked over at the range again, wincing as Jad and Kol blew a chunk of wall out along with the target. Bastion raised a hand.

"Let me handle 'em." Zero grunted, bowing down.

"Oh, by all means." Bastion nodded slightly to Bristol, who remained by the entrance and watched in interest. Walking to the range, he checked on the pair, lightly tapping them on the shoulder. They started for a moment, then turned and grinned from ear to ear.

"Awlright!" Jad chortled. "The bossman, comin' to show us the rooopes!" Kol smacked Jad in the back of the head.

"Forgive him, Commander. He still thinks you like 'Makin' Copeees!" Bastion rolled his eyes.

"I don't copy stuff, Jad. I save it to memory. In any case, see that target there?" He pointed his index finger at the now obliterated range circle and the chunk of wall also destroyed. Kol and Jad shook their heads slowly. Bastion snorted.

"The object of shooting your Busters at that is to maintain a steady rate of fire at high accuracy. NOT to charge your blaster up, pop it off and wish for half the shot to hit." Bastion shook his head. "Ahh, geez. It's things like this that keep us from going to the Bowling Alley on weekends. Do me a favor and don't waste our slush fund budget on wall repairs." Jad nearly choked on a chuckle, and Kol ribbed him to stop it. Jad howled in pain and kicked Kol in the shins, who then responded with a crack to Jad's jaw. Bastion finally decked them both with one massive double fisted barrel punch. Wincing and lying on the ground, they looked up sheepishly. Bastion rolled his eyes again.

"All right. I have a feeling that skirmish was created by Kol trying to stop Jad from saying something stupid. Which you do often enough to warrant it. However, I really do wish you'd stop the fisticuffs. Save it for when you two have to rely on each other for survival in a fight." Jad nodded.

"Ahh, shoot. Kol here knows that when push comes to shove-"

"As it often does!" Kol pointed out with a bluster. Jad snorted.

"Anyhoo, he knows that in a pinch, I'd do everything in my power to help him out. We're team members, for cryin' out loud! The Dual Busters of Death!" Kol hooed in response, and they high fived. Bastion groaned.

"All right. I give up." He looked about, still unsure of something. "Say, where's Gavin?" Jad blinked, then smiled and pointed behind his commander. Bastion frowned, then widened his eyes in recognition.

"Oh." He turned a full 180, his face switching to smile mode. Gavin stood with his arms at his sides, watching in mock interest. "Gavin me boy! You been keeping these two in line while I was under the knife?" Gavin grunted.

"If it's possible. I dun my best, coach." He looked over to a training room and grinned. "Hey, boss! You interested in having a friendly little duel with me?" Bastion widened his eyes for a moment, then nodded.

"I could use the practice. Don't expect to win, though." Gavin jawed his disapproval.

"Oh, we'll see. Give it a break, gramps. Time to let the young wolves lead the pack!" Bastion growled, but his face still held happiness. Gavin was prodding him into action, not actually threatening him.

"Oh, you think, eh Gavin? Let this old warhorse show you just what's what!" As Bastion and Gavin ran off to the training room, Jad grinned.

"You know what I was gonna say when you punched me?" Kol shrugged.

"What?"

"I was gonna say, most of the wall damages done are by our mysterious friend Bristol."

"I got three to one odds Gavin whips Bastion soundly!" Jad hollered. "Any takers?" The uproar on the walkway above the medium sized dojo was a mad pack of Hunters, as everyone made a bet on the winner of the small training session. 

Below, Bastion examined his opponent with careful eyes. Arms at his side, he finally raised them.

"All right, Gavin. First things first. Hand to hand combat." Gavin nodded happily, then tucked himself into a fighting pose. Bastion nodded.

This was not going to be Martial Arts. This was gonna be a street fight, which is usually the only kind of fighting one engages in on the field.

Gavin came at Bastion with a first solid burst from his Dash Boots, priming himself for a body slam. Bastion readied himself, then dashed to the side at the last moment. He raised his hand and solidly thwocked it against Gavin's back as he went, sending the Hunter sprawling. 

Laughter erupted above, and more money was wagered on Bastion. Gavin picked himself up with little fanfare, now snorting angrily at the ease of which Bastion had silenced him. 

"Not bad, Commander." Bastion shrugged, watching Gavin's eyes for his next movement. Gavin took to the air, dashing against and then off the wall. With a downwards tackle, Gavin prepared to slam into Bastion full force. Bastion sidestepped it again, but this time Gavin was expecting it. Upon landing, he activated his thrusters again, charging at Bastion in an attack that was pure surprise.

Bastion frowned, then realized there was no stopping the next blow. Gavin wanted to meet fist to fist, he was fine with that.

Gavin came at Bastion with a low kick to the midsection. Bastion deflected it easily with a left fist slam, then went at Gavin with a thruster enhanced dash punch. Gavin ducked under the blow, readying a double fisted slam to Bastion's gut.

Bastion jumped up into the air, dodging the blow even before Gavin had unleashed it. Landing behind the Hunter, he turned and took one final dash to his opponent. A dizzying jump kick into Gavin's backside sent him sprawling once more, and after only four seconds of combat, it was over.

More cheers for Bastion, who stood with one hand at his side, placidly watching Gavin pick himself up from the blow.

Bastion raised his other hand and pointed. 

"Your problem is, Gavin-you forget subtle movements can be just as effective as large, frontal ones." Gavin growled.

"So you took me out in hand to hand. We still have a saber duel to accomplish today." More yells of approval from above. Bastion looked up in annoyance, then shrugged.

"All right." He reached for his saber, pulling it from his socket. He didn't light it right away, instead feeling its solid weight in his hands. "You want to have a duel? I'm fine with that." Gavin yowled his affirmation, then yanked his own saber free from its recharge port on his back. Unlike Bastion, Gavin lit his saber instantly, bringing the orange blade to life. He held it with both hands, his eyes peering around the tint, staring bloody murder into Bastion's eyes.

Bastion lit his, then brought it up to the same position as Gavin's, overlapping the orange blade with his on his line of sight. 

Then he froze. Bastion, seeing only an angry being staring at him, and a purple blade in his face, suddenly lost all control of his voluntary servos and wiring. The room faded away from his perspective, and then it was only him and the angry figure staring at him.

"No-oh, no." Bastion gasped. Terrible images of his attack flashed across his mind, and he was unable to stop it. 

Gavin charged, screaming at the top of his lungs at Bastion as he raised his blade into the air. Bastion made no move to stop the attack or avoid it.

Gavin came closer, closer, hurtling across the chamber with ease. He brought his saber down, slamming it into Bastion's own blade. The blow jarred the saber loose, and it clattered onto the floor, automatically shutting itself off.

Bastion slumped to the floor, his eyes staring off into nothingness. His body trembled, his voice waned in and out of hearing.

"No-no-stay away!" In the dead silence, Gavin blinked in confusion, stepping away and putting up a defensive posture in case Bastion was trying to trick him.

But he finally shut his blade off. Then the muttering started. Everyone watched in surprise and stunned amusement at Bastion's display.

It continued. Bastion fell onto his side, still shaking in fear, his voice getting thicker with sobs as he pleaded to have it stop.

"Have what stop?!" Zero grumbled. X jumped down from above, landing lightly beside the quivering Hunter. He looked down at the glazed face of agony, then up above. His face went dark.

"We need to get him to Hazil-NOW!"

Hazil watched with angry impatience as the scanner slowly winded down from Bastion's survey. The Hunter, now in stasis once more lay silent on the table, an unmoving figure to his own fears. X and Zero, as well as Bristol waited with tense moods for the completion.

Finally, his console beeped and Hazil brought up the screen. He looked over it with quick eyes, then sighed.

Pushing himself away from the console, Hazil faced the waiting onlookers and shrugged.

"So why did you bring him to me?" Zero nearly coughed up a hairball, and X slammed a hand to his head.

"Hazil! He went dead limp in the training room, shaking in fear." Hazil snorted.

"Are you all that dense?" Hazil waited, but got no response. Finally, he spoke up again. "Listen. There's nothing physically wrong with this guy. I should know, because I fixed all the major stuff, and Bristol somehow worked her magic on his stasis controls. What's wrong with him is psychological."

X finally nodded, realizing what the grumpy practitioner was saying.

"So, Bastion froze up because of-"

"A blasted flashback to a very painful time. Most likely the attack he suffered four days ago. Tell me, just what was happening to him when he-hmm." Hazil tapped the side of his head. "Bristol, can you think of a term?" 

"When Bastion sighted a banshee, froze in fear and curled his tail to the Queen's coattails?" Bristol said quietly. Hazil clenched his teeth and nodded. 

"Exactly. So? You two gonna give me an answer, or try and beat me in a staring contest?" Zero finally grunted and leveled his gaze at the doc.

"Bastion and Gavin were facing each other in a training session. Gavin lit his blade, Bastion did as well, and then he just froze." Hazil whistled.

"Shoulda known so. Bastion got nailed by a beam staff, right? It makes sense seeing another blade weapon would set him up for a psychotic nightmare." 

X shook his head.

"So what do we do now?" Hazil blinked his eyes shut for a moment, then spoke up.

"Simple. Until such a time as he is able to wield his weapon in full use of his faculties, I'm sticking him on the injured list. The 21st will have to go on for a while without him, but they'll live." Hazil frowned. "Worst case scenario, they don't have a leader for the remaining 25 days the Hunters are in operation." 

"Any cures?" X shot back quickly. Hazil scratched the back of his head.

"I have a few ideas already. But mainly, it's up to him. He has to overcome the memory, he has to regain himself. It's up to him to Face the Nightmares." Hazil looked over to the sleeping Hunter, then shrugged. "So, who's gonna take him back to his room?"

Bristol walked beside him, quietly putting her hand on his.

"I'll do it." She said softly, almost too soft to be heard. But they heard it. Hazil nodded, X set his jaw and Zero snorted. But they didn't argue.

Bristol picked Bastion up, heaving his frame onto her back. With one smooth motion, she set him into a carrying position and began to walk out the door. Zero looked over to X and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You wanna go do some training?"

"No. I don't feel like it."

"Fine. Howabout a drink?"

"You buying?"

"Yeah."

"Grape soda, then." The two Hunters left the Medical Bay, and then only Hazil remained.

He waited for a moment, and then rolled over to his console.

"Computer." It bleeped for a moment, then went silent. "Bring up design schematics for Bastion's beam saber." It did as was told. Hazil silently scanned the images, then nodded.

"Twenty five days." He rubbed his eyes with a hand. "Bastion, if this works, you owe me big. It just may be the one thing that keeps you from going to the unemployment lines."


	10. A Prelude To The Void

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER EIGHT: A PRELUDE TO THE VOID

"Wake up, sunshine." Bastion flipped his eyes open and looked around himself. He was in his room, and the only difference was the figure of Bristol, her arms in her lap as she sat in a chair beside his bed, watching him intently. Bastion shook his head, and noticed his helmet had been removed.

He sat up and reached for it beside his bed, by the lit lamp. Snapping it on, he looked at Bristol, his puzzled face searching for an answer. Bristol shook her head.

"Bastion, you had a nervous breakdown during your training session with Gavin." Bastion frowned, remembering the event. And then after that-it was all a blank. A big, dark-and FRIGHTENING-blank.

"Yes. So why am I here?" Bristol shut her eyes, but her sad expression still carried to him.

"It's a psychological problem you have. Hazil wanted the bedspace back." Bastion shook his head, still feeling out of place with everything around him. 

"That sounds like something Hazil would do." Bastion lifted himself from the bed, looking down at Bristol, who finally got up as well.

"So what are you doing here then?" Bastion asked. Bristol shrugged.

"I dragged your sleeping carcass from the Medical Bay to here. Then I watched you rest." She smiled just a bit. "Not exactly the most enjoyable activity. Kind of like watching paint dry." Bastion rubbed his hands together and looked at the clock.

"So. I guess I'd better get off to my Unit." As he began to walk, Bristol's firm hand pushed against his chest, stopping him. Bastion looked down at the arm in surprise, then up at her dark face.

"Doctor's orders, Bastion. You're off the team." Bastion blinked, not quite grasping what she had said. Then he finally sat down, letting it sink in.

"I-I'm on the injured list?" Bristol nodded. 

"I know it hurts, Bastion. But we can get you off of it." Bastion shook his head.

"How?" Bristol set her teeth.

"All we have to do is get you back to the way you were before you were attacked five days ago. A perfectly competent Hunter, able to wield your beam saber with the deadly efficiency we all know you can." Bastion guffawed.

"Oh, come on. I am not affected! I'm perfectly fine!" Bristol's eyes flared into life, and she looked down at him.

"No. You're not, and you're a boor for thinking otherwise." Bastion growled at her.

"I mean it, Bristol. I'm fine." Bristol shook her head, then held out her hand.

"Give me your saber." Bastion thought for a moment, then pulled the handle from its charger on his back and tossed it to her. Bristol held it firmly in her left hand, then lit the blade. It thrummed to life, and continued to have a steady sound.

The mere sight of the purple blade froze Bastion in place. His eyes locked onto it, then glazed over. His mouth fell down, and he began to shake.

Bristol quickly extinguished the weapon. In a few moments, Bastion recovered, although a thin layer of sweat was on his brow.

"Wha-what happened?" Bristol gave him a look of annoyance, and then it dawned on Bastion.

"Ahh, Gawd." He sat down again, then put his head in his hands. "It was like you turned into them. Bristol-you were right." Bristol snorted.

"Of course I was." Bastion shook his head.

"So now what?" Bristol chucked the handle at his head, solidly connecting and leaving a small dent in his helmet. Bastion yelped and leapt to his feet. Bristol put her hands at her side.

"You're a Hunter, Bastion. If you want to be one again, then training's your only ticket." Bastion wiped the sweat from his face.

"But I'll still glitch out when someone lights a saber!" Bristol quietly brought up a hand to his face, cradling his cheek. Bastion, his face pleading for aid, looked into the soft eyes of Bristol. 

Those soft warm eyes.

Bristol smiled.

"Bastion, you helped me get over my lost memories by your caring. Now it's time for me to repay the favor." She flashed a brilliant smile, two perfect rows of synthteeth glaring the room light. "I'll take you into training. Until we can get you back to the way you were, we'll work nonstop. All day and all night." Bastion finally blinked after a long pause.

"Thank you." Bristol nodded, then stepped away. Her hand dropped from his face, and she laughed.

"I'm more than happy to help, Bastion. After all, what are friends for? I'll see you in the rec room in thirty minutes. I suggest you get some staples down your gullet." Bristol left his room, twirling about in a perfect 180 with her hair swinging from the motion.

His door shut. 

Bastion breathed. The fear had left him when she smiled at him, held his head in her hand-

"You are my friend, Bristol." Bastion finally uttered. He looked down at the saber on the floor, then picked it up and slipped it in his recharger. Time for breakfast.

But Bastion felt a nagging thought at the back of his head.

Was there a stronger word besides friend that could be used for the two of them?

In the dim light of a room, far away from the bustle of cities, humans, reploids and prying eyes, a figure waited patiently.

A computer screen was the only light in the square space, and the soft whirring of the computer's electronic circuitry was the only sound within. 

The pale green and blue coloring of the monitor did little to improve the lone figure's outline.

Then, a knock at the door. The lone figure raised its head, cloaked and hidden from direct view by a thick woolen covering. The door swung open, and a reploid walked in.

It's eyes seemed glazed over, preoccupied with something or other-or it could have been in a trance. Nevertheless, it walked in. The hidden figure didn't move from its seat.

"Well?" It rasped. It was male, but ragged and worn, and slightly distorted with what seemed to be a second voice layer with the first one.

The reploid who had just walked in lifted its hand. In it was a computer disk. The sitting figure nodded for a moment, and his hidden face flashed, a pair of eyes blazing into life.

"Aha. The new data." The hypnotized messenger dropped the disk on the desk beside the cloaked demon. Eagerly grasping it with an odd hand, the figure slipped it into his disk drive and uploaded it to his main file.

"Hmm." Another raspy growl. The head turned for a moment, its eyes flashing at the motionless figure waiting for its next order. "You're dismissed." The sitting figure finally waved his hand, and the reploid messenger turned about, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

This was a secluded location of an outpost base. No one would expect to find them here. The figure cackled for a moment, then peered at the new data intently.

"Hmm. Four days from now, they're sending a bunch to Calcutta, eh?" The gnarled hand tugged at the chin of the figure's head. "Let's see if there are any who are worth recruiting-or killing."

The list went by slowly. Names were accompanied by photos and physical, as well as psychological statistics.

The figure's eyes narrowed. An average list at best. Whether this one should be used or not was highly debatable. 

And then, a trump card in the mix. 

"WHAT THE-?!" The figure leapt to its feet, not believing its eyes. It looked closer. "He's not in his armor, but we would know him anywhere. Yess. We know him very well, don't we?" The figure sat back down, letting its fingertips rasp against the desk. "This certainly does change the situation a lot. If we could get him back, the mission would be much easier." More head scratching, then it slammed its fist into the desk frame.

"Oh, yes. We will visit them as they go." The figure stood up, pulling its cloak tighter about itself. "The revolution fast approaches."

"START!" Bastion's arm snapped up, the X-Buster slipped onto it whining into life. As Bristol shouted the beginning, his eyes narrowed and he tried to focus.

The targets popped into view, and Bastion whipped the Buster around as best he could. He shot, and shot again.

More targets. Hits and misses.

And then the klaxon sounded, ending the simulation. Bastion lowered his arm.

The targets faded from the dark room, and lights turned on. Once more he was in a holo-box, with a door and window at the side.

The door opened. Bastion turned to face the person walking in. Bristol crossed her arms and bit her lip.

"You got fifteen of forty." Bristol shook her head. "On your worst run, you managed to hit thirty." Bastion breathed heavily, the anger within building up. 

"I'm not making it." Bastion yowled again. "I'M NOT DOING IT!" He raised his Buster and fired a shot into the wall. It fizzled for a moment, leaving a dark scorch mark. Bristol sighed.

"Bastion, you're not yourself. I've never seen you take out an enemy by screaming your head off, whipping a war cry and being a damn fool." Bristol raised a finger. "The warrior I know you were and will be again was calm, cool and collected. You never make a false move, you plan your attacks. When you go in, you're always watching for a sneak attack, you never get too caught up in your own moves. When you faced Gavin yesterday in hand to hand combat, you treated that Issen no different than you would an Ikusa." Bristol used Japanese terms, Issen being a bout, or friendly combat training, and Ikusa being a war.

Bastion tucked his head down.

"Yeah." Bristol nodded hers.

"So? If you can just keep your cool while you're fighting like you did then, you'll find yourself slipping into your old routines, your old ways of operating. If you can do that, you're that much closer to overcoming the psychological block you've placed about fighting with your beam saber." Bastion nodded.

He shut his eyes, breathed deeply for a few moments, and then opened them again. His face placid and focused, he looked at Bristol and nodded.

"Let's try it again."

Bristol went into the control room and activated the simulation again.

The room went dark, and the holographic targets came online once more.

Just then, the door to the Rec Room opened up behind Bristol. She turned around to find herself looking at X. X shrugged.

"Just checking up on him. How's he doing?" Bristol sighed.

"I don't rightly know. If he has managed to retain the calm operational mindset that he uses for battle, then he's on his way." 

The klaxon wailed again. Bristol looked down at her tally of the 40 targets. X whistled.

"Thirty two. What was his last score?"

"Fifteen." X grinned.

"THERE YA GO!" Bastion popped onto the intercom.

"Hey Bristol, what's the score?"

"Bastion, you got thirty two." X said loudly. Bastion's eyes went wide in surprise, then he smiled.

"That's good to know. Set me up again. This time, stick the speed and placement on random."

"You sure, luv?" Bristol said, her British accent growing thicker in the sentence of surprise. Bastion nodded, shaking his hair back.

"Positive."

The room grew dark again, and the targets came back up.

Bastion allowed himself a small smile, but kept focused on his task.

The warrior was fast returning.

"They're planning to move soon." Andante said calmly, leaning up against the frame of the door. His head was turned outside, watching the desert sands blow about, each time being deflected away from the hut he and Allegro inhabited by the energy field placed over it. 

Allegro was doing maintenance on their beam staffs, the covers off and the wiring exposed. He looked up, his working goggles seeming out of place on his face. He frowned.

"When, exactly?" Andante turned around, but left the door open.

"Four days from now." He took the time, to check his internal chronometer, then shook his head. "Sorry, three days. It's 00:01 hours." Allegro nodded.

"Time seems to be the most unpredictable thing of all. It flows fast when you need more time, and when you wait for an event to happen, it will drag like frozen molasses." Andante smiled softly. "Time is an enemy to all, you know."

Allegro snapped the covers back into place, picking them up one in each hand. He tossed one to Andante, who caught it easily. Allegro lit his weapon, but only one end of it. He held it so the blade lit his face in the darkness.

"I see only one enemy, Andante. The snake. Once more we go to target the body, but we still do not know where the head rests. And as you've said, the head holds the venemous bite." Andante's face darkened, and he nodded. He looked at his counterpart, then waved a hand to the outside.

"Come with me." Allegro followed willingly.

On the outside, but still protected by the solar powered shield, they watched the sand drift. Andante lifted his head, feeling the breeze penetrate the shield and blow onto his face. Looking farther up, his quiet eyes scanned the heavens above, the full moon shining reflected sunlight onto the earth below, and the stars as bright as you could ever hope to see them.

"Allegro, look at the sky." Andante said finally. Allegro followed his brother's gaze, nodding.

"The stars are out tonight. The sky is clear." Andante nodded, folding his arms, the beam staff now secured onto his backpack charger.

"In this desert wilderness, we can see everything. No city lights dim their radiance, no noise pollutes the silence. In this quiet of the storm, we are watchers of infinity." Allegro sighed.

"Do you know what depresses me, brother?" Andante looked over, waiting patiently. Allegro continued. "Here we are, on an earth that is not fully explored yet. The vast deserts still hide secrets from the past we don't know about. The ocean holds wildlife and things that civilization has yet to discover fully. And the vast reaches of space above are just that-space." Allegro shook his head, his face filled not with hatred for once, but sorrow. "The only thing that humanity and reploids have been able to do consistently is bicker, fight, poke and prod one another into conflict." Andante walked over, and put a large hand on his sibling's shoulder.

"Brother, that's why we fight." Allegro looked at him, waiting. "Allegro, we fight so earth can move on. One way or another, be it through death and despair or war, we will settle the score. The snake will be killed, our part of the job will be done." He looked up again.

"Allegro, the stars know joy-kietsu. In time, so will we." Allegro nodded.

"Until then, we fight."

"We will fight."

"Jab!" Bastion threw his fist at command, sending it hurtling towards Bristol. Her hands were up in a defensive posture, holding a thick mitt, and absorbed his fist easily. 

By now, they had discarded their bulky armor in favor of more conservative-and less weighty-fighting karate gis. Bristol's was a dark, almost purple blue, while Bastion's was a fiery bronzed brown, the color of the desert he hailed from.

The sweat on their faces, synthetic as it was, worked the same as it did for humans. Only the moisture used to draw out the excess heat was pulled from the air, then solidified into liquid form and used to carry the hot expulsions. 

Other noticeable additions to their guises were that Bristol's hair was now tied back with a strip of pink satin, and Bastion's gi had a 21st Unit insignia on it.

Bastion followed up his first punch with his other hand, and then he swung his leg up to meet the block. The leg hit more solidly than his fists, and Bristol stumbled back a bit. Finally, she dropped the thick leather mitt.

"Time." She called out wearily. Bastion took in a deep breath, then released it. His arms dropped to his side, and he pushed his hair back, carefully adjusting the few strands that had fallen over his eyes. Wiping the sweat from his head, he nodded.

"I'm feeling better." Bristol nodded, then motioned to the bottles of water over in a corner of the dojo. They walked over, Bristol taking the time to adjust her hair tie.

"Bastion, we're getting closer to the goal we're trying to achieve. Close combat is working. Next, we'll use metallic sticks to represent sabers. And after that-"

"After that, we do the real thing." Bastion said, uncapping his water bottle and taking a swig. His face was grim, focused. 

Getting more and more to his true Hunter state.

"Righty-o, Bastion." Bristol said. "Small steps." Bastion put the water bottle down, his mind buried in thought.

"I've heard that before. That's from a late 20th Century movie-CONTACT. Yeah, starring Jodie Foster. Her father is always telling her, 'Small steps, Ellie. Small steps." Bristol thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"That's not where I got it from." Bastion looked at her, his face questioning.

"So where did you get it from?" Bristol let her face drop for a moment, then shook her head.

"My past. The one I can't remember. Just pieces of lost time." Bastion winced, instinctively wanting to draw her close, comfort her again.

"I'm sorry." Bastion shook his head.

"It's all right. I'm over it now. You helped me out more than you know, Bastion. And a part of that was learning to move on." Bastion crossed his arms.

"Should I move on as well?" Bristol shook her head again.

"Bastion, your place is here. The world needs you-needs the Hunter. My place is not as known as that. Truly, I'm the outcast everywhere I go. But aside from this, there's one place I'll always feel somewhat at home with." Bastion blinked.

"Would that be here?" Bristol smiled again.

"You catch on fast, Yank. Now come on. We have to get you back in shape. Only-23 days left now."

"Right. Twenty three days until the Hunters go belly up." Bastion grunted. "So? What now?" Bristol motioned to the wall of weapons.

"Grab a stick. We're doing saber simulations next." Bastion started to walk over to it, then winced.

"Ahh. Bristol, I'm pretty tired. Let's call it a night. There is tomorrow." Bristol paused for a moment, then nodded.

"I'm getting a bit peckish myself, Bastion. Right then. I'll see you back here at 0900 Hours-That's eight hours from now."

"That should be enough stasis time." Bastion said. He shut his eyes and activated the armory computer's clothing warehouse. Selecting a basic selection, he waited.

The transport was quick, and in less than a second his karate gi was replaced by a pair of gray shorts and a tan brown T-Shirt. Bristol giggled at the ensemble, and Bastion grimaced.

"What? You've never seen a reploid crash in summer getup?" Bristol nodded.

"No. Most just use their armor, or a conservative robe. But YOU-You of all reploids feel the need to wear comfortable clothing." Bastion shrugged.

"It rubs off on you. You hang around X and Cain long enough, you'll end up doing the same. The both of 'em do the same thing. Only X is all blue and Cain likes purple." 

They stood, facing each other in the dojo, not sure what to say next. Bastion quietly scuffed the floor with his boot, and then finally spoke up.

"Well, see you tomorrow then." Bristol reacted quickly.

"Right. Tomorrow." Bastion took out of there, and Bristol waited for a few moments.

At long last, she went over and shut the lights off. Bathed in darkness, with only the light from the exit door to shine on her, she curled her arms around herself.

"Bastion, it's more than the HQ that I feel comfortable with. It's you."

"All right members of URFAWP! Let's quiet down here for a moment!" Fyler, one of URFAWP's team leaders stood on a podium, while the squabbling members below didn't listen. Finally, they were silenced by a loud harrumph.

"That's better." He cleared his throat. "I'm Team Leader Fyler. Now, as you all know, URFAWP's main goal is to promote understanding between humans and reploids all over the world. For this mission, you have been training. You've been taking classes to sensitize you, you've been learning social skills to benefit you, and in dire cases, how to escape with your life." 

"When do we learn how to flip omelets?!" A voice called out from the back. Laughs filled the room. Fyler waved his hand.

"Now, now. I like a joke as much as the next metallic man, but realize that in here, we have to be more serious." The laughing quieted down, but snickers would still pop up from time to time.

Isaiah and Wycost were in the middle of the crowd, their responses differing greatly. Wycost sat with his arms folded, his eyes hidden behind the wraparound sunglasses that were always with him. Isaiah in turn was on the edge of his seat, calmly listening to every word said. Isaiah turned to face Wycost with a frown.

"Hey, you listening?" Wycost didn't give a verbal response. He just motioned very slowly with his head, a bob up and down. Isaiah snorted.

"I figured as much. Even when you act smug and indifferent, you're always keyed up." Wycost nodded again. "Is that because of the Hunter in you?" Another nod. Isaiah sighed. "You want me to shut up, don't you?" 

A very large nod. Isaiah snorted again. "Fine. Maybe you'll learn something from Fyler." Now Wycost shook his head. Isaiah ignored it.

"There comes a time when small steps must be replaced by large ones. From this point until three days from now when all of you will be shipped off to Calcutta, India, you all will be going through group simulated exercises. In these, you'll learn the tiny nuances of mood, approach and other things that you won't get from the small practice sessions."

Silence in the room. Fyler continued, confident.

"I have been with URFAWP since it was created. Because of this, I can answer any question you might have about how to operate. But there are three major steps to URFAWP's mission. One; Arrival. Two; Activation. And Three; Communication."

"These three steps are always followed. It's as crucial to URFAWP as the reploids who volunteer. Now, I'll warn you. At some places and times, you'll run into good opposition. You'll face scorn, riots, revolutions and indifference. At some times, you may even be faced with the possibility of death."

Fyler waited. The shock was still there in their faces. Here and there, a few wiseguys that scoffed at the idea, some other places in the audience, reploids went pale. But then there was one most noticeable of all. Wycost, the troublesome recruit who had been pulled in from Tokyo sat with his arms crossed, defiance apparent and his glasses down. Fyler frowned. A pop quiz after this might be a good idea.

"Nevertheless, URFAWP exists to stop these problems. We halt it before this hatred can erupt, and in worse places we will be called upon to moderate talks for non-aggression. URFAWP's mission is this: No matter what anyone else tells you, no matter what our goal is, it's this simple. URFAWP works towards peace."

Fyler put his hands on the podium, a smirk crossing his face.

"Well, I think it's time to review what I just said. Can someone tell me the three steps of URFAWP's travel plan?" A hand went up. Fyler recognized it as Isaiah, Wycost's more sociable team partner. "Yes, Isaiah?"

"The three steps are Arrival, Activation, and Communication."

"Right you are! It's that simple to remember." Fyler let his eyes scan the room, taknig extra time to see what Wycost was doing. Still looking half asleep. He frowned.

"Well, I think that they have the mass exercises planned. From here, I want you all to convene by the Mess Hall. There, you'll find your group lists and your objective sheets. Each of the groups will be meeting in a different area on the URFAWP compound, where realistic holographic setups for different environments have been constructed. DISMISSED!"

The reploid recruits of URFAWP stood up and began to file out of the hall, one by one, their conversations growing louder.

Isaiah turned to Wycost and shrugged.

"Well, we'd best get going." 

"Isaiah, you go on ahead. I need to have a talk with Wycost here." Fyler's voice was stern, and Isaiah was stunned to see the reploid standing above them. 

"Uhh-yessir." Isaiah stammered, before bolting. He couldn't help but think just what Wycost had done to bring Fyler's wrath down on him.

Wycost waited, not making a move. Finally, Fyler sighed.

"Get up." Wycost did as he was told, letting his arms drop to his side. Fyler stared at Wycost with his fierce eyes for a few seconds before growling again.

"Take those glasses off." He reached for them.

Wycost's left hand shot up from his waist, blocking Fyler's attempt. Fyler's eyes shot wide open. 

Wycost's mouth was calm, an icy cold expression of emotionless demeanor.

"I think they're fine where they are, sir." Wycost released Fyler's hand, and Fyler yanked it back, rubbing it. He glared at Wycost again.

"Wycost, you're a cannon waiting to go off." Wycost didn't respond, and Fyler continued. "Ever since you got here, you've been sullen, quiet, contained and unsociable. Those aren't qualities URFAWP enjoys having in a teammate." Wycost merely stared some more, then finally spoke up.

"Excuse me for being different." Fyler snorted.

"Wycost, if I had my way, I'd boot you out of this outfit! You're not URFAWP material. You're a hot trigger waiting to go off." Fyler shook his head. "Wycost, there are times I wonder just where you came from. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a maverick." Wycost snorted.

He wasn't that far off the mark. He HAD been a maverick, for a time. But he overcame it.

"Sorry to disappoint you, bub. If I was, I would have tried to infect you all by now." Wycost folded his arms. "So, am I dismissed?" Fyler grinned devilishly.

"Yeah. You have a long way to run, though. Everyone's way ahead of you." Wycost shook his head.

"Oh, not quite, Fyler. There are a lot of things you don't know about me." Wycost turned about and spoke up louder. "Why run-when I can DASH?!"

Fyler opened his eyes wider, and then it finally dawned on him. 

The backblast from Wycost's boot thrusters sent him tumbling to the ground, spitting out the charred dirt he'd swallowed from the ground Wycost's fuel burst had kicked up.

"WYCOST!!" Fyler screamed. But Wycost was 100 yards away, and vanishing fast. Fyler shook his fist at the screamin' demon, and finally picked himself up.

"Just WHERE did he come from?" Fyler muttered to himself.

"Aah, X! You return once more to my castle in the middle of nowhere." Cossack laughed out loud. X grinned his usual smile and waved a hand.

A second bolt of fire from above blasted down beside X, scattering the minute pebbles Dust Man had missed in his vacuuming. Cossack blinked for a moment in surprise, then rubbed his glasses with a soft cloth.

"Who is your friend?" X looked beside him and shrugged.

"Cossack, this is my close friend in the Hunters. We call him Zero." Cossack sighed.

"Yes. So, you at last bring the fabled final creation of Doctor Wily to meet with me." Zero winced at the remark, but Cossack laughed. "Oh, do refrain from doing that, Zero. I mean you no disrespect. You are X's friend, and therefore mine. Feel free to make yourselves at home." 

Zero looked around the darkened interior of the sub-basement complex. He frowned.

"Seems kinda bleary to me. And you're here by yourself?" X giggled.

"Nah. He's got his daughter and his 'bots." Zero raised an eyebrow.

"His 'bots?" X slapped him on the back.

"Oh, come on. Don't you recall the Fourth Wily War? Wily kidnapped Kalinka and forced Cossack to take his robot designs and build 8 killer robots to take out my big brother Mega. Luckily, my even older brother Blues showed up in the knick of time with Kalinka, and things got smoothed out." Zero harrumphed.

"They must be pretty outdated by now." X grinned.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. HEY GUYS! COME ON OUT, I WANT YOU ALL TO MEET A FRIEND!" 

X's voice echoed throughout the castle, and slowly they began to emerge.

8 robots, half X's height, steadily making their way towards Cossack and his visitors.

The dim light slowly revealed them, and Zero found himself watching the parade in stunned disbelief.

Even if they were small, their stances were formidable. Zero didn't envy Mega Man having to go up against them all.

One in a large yellow headdress with a snake on it walked up to X and shook his hand.

"Mega Man X. Welcome back." His face was bland, lacking the emotional capabilities of a reploid. But X smiled nonetheless.

"Hello Pharaoh Man. How are you today?" Zero watched as the Robot Master pondered the question for a moment, then nodded.

"I am fine." Pharaoh Man looked over to Zero, then back at X. "I assume that your red counterpart by Doctor Cossack is the friend you mentioned."

"Oh yes indeedy. This is Zero, a fellow Hunter." Pharaoh Man walked over to Zero, sizing him up for a moment with his steely eyes. Finally, he nodded and gave a slight smile, an automatic response programmed into him by the Doctor.

"Zero, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Pharaoh Man, one of Doctor Sergei Cossack's eight Robot Masters. Would you like me to introduce you to the rest?" Zero nodded.

Within two minutes, he knew every one of the robots standing placidly by their creator. There was Pharaoh Man of course, who had the ability to use solar energy and create energy spheres. When charged up, he could produce a wave effect that was strong back in the days of 20XX. Then there was Ring Man, whose two major advantages was his speed and the razor sharp edges of his synthesized Ring Boomerangs. Bright Man, who had the ability to overload optical sensors on robots, reploids and humans with a bright flash from the bulb atop his head, and then spray the paralyzed beings with a spray from his plasma cannon.

There was Drill Man, who aside from being able to throw Drill Bombs, incendiary devices with burrowing capabilities, could also burrow himself into the ground, to pop out underneath his opponents for a sneak attack.

There was Dive Man, who was a fish out of the water. In it however, his spin attack worked wonders. He also carried Dive Torpedoes, which had airborne capabilities as well. A comical snorkel on his head gave the lummox less respect than the bumbling Bright Man, who was quick to use his preprogrammed smile.

Dust Man, who could suck up scattered debris with a giant vacuum over his head and spit it out from his arm vacuum as a clustered mass of metal and dirt. Dust Man was often mute, but when he spoke, he sounded a bit like Eeyore with all his chores. 

There was Skull Man, whose only real pro was his high defense capability. Even then, he had to stand stark still to deflect shots. Zero knew in a fight today he'd get fried.

And lastly, there was Toad Man. He had an unusual habit of having to hop all the time, lacking proper leg servos. However, it gave him an enormous height advantage, the ability to reach chandeliers forty feet up. The only attacks Toad Man had ever held was trying to stomp on stuff with his leaps, and the Rain Flush, in which he sent up a missile that laced the near sky with corrosive chemical and activated clouds instantly. The chemical came raining down, burning through metal but leaving human flesh unscarred.

Zero finally whistled at the end.

"A very big lot of robots you have here, Doc. With some upgrading and some training, I could turn them into a real fighting force." Dust Man raised his hand.

"Pardon me, sir Zero: We decided long ago that we would not use our powers for violence. Now we merely keep the castle in working order and run tours of it for the tourists." Zero harrumphed.

"Aah, come on! Admit it, you guys could be GREAT! You could be perfect defenders of Northern Asia, should the need arise." The robots looked at each other, not sure what to make of Zero's ranting.

Cossack finally coughed.

"Zero, what do you mean? The Hunters are earth's defense." Zero shook his head, his face turning dark.

"I mean this, Cossack. The Hunters have Twenty three days left, then the GDC is shutting us down. When that time comes, the Hunters will only be at 10% of their strength now. The world will need more defenders than us, Cossack. And I say that with the right equipment, your 'bots here could be it." Cossack let it sink in, then he turned to face Pharaoh Man.

"Well, Phare? You're the elected bandleader of my creations. They voted you chief speaker. Tell me what you think."

Pharaoh Man quietly blinked, a sign that he was immersed in deep thought. 

Time stood still, save for the dripping of water into the underwater tunnels that Toad Man patrolled every third day.

At last, Pharaoh Man nodded.

"Affirmative. If Mega Man X and his friend Zero's collective of peacekeeping Maverick Hunters will have their forces cut, it is logical that a new group should replace it to carry on its work. However, there are several limitations that should be considered." Pharaoh Man waited, then continued. "Our operations area should be limited to the Asian Continent. Aside from that, our tactical responses would be limited and far too late to be of any good. Upgrades will need to be made to our weapons systems and our life support systems to ensure that we will be able to accomplish these goals. If these steps are followed, I believe mission success rates should be acceptably high."

The other 7 robots silently nodded, agreeing with Pharaoh Man. Zero grinned.

"There we go! I'll tell you what. As soon as Hazil gets some free time on his hands, I'll have him come with us and set you up with the upgrades."

"That would be satisfactory." Pharaoh Man said calmly. X put a hand on Zero's shoulder, smiling some more.

"When compared to having a few Hunters instead of the forces we need, anything's satisfactory." 

Cossack clapped his hands.

"This will be done later. Right now, I can smell Kalinka's sweet jelly rolls!" X whiffed the air and dreamily shut his eyes.

"Mmm. Jelly rolls." Zero nudged him in the arm with a devilish grin.

"Betcha I can eat more than you can." X chortled.

"YOU'RE ON!"

"Yaaah!" Bastion roared. Swinging down his metallic stick, he tried again to try and smash through Bristol's defensive posture. 

Bristol, gritting her teeth as she strained to hold back the blow, finally activated her thrusters and dashed backwards from her opponent.

Bastion followed with his own thrusters, raising his fake saber to eye level with both hands. Bristol, the hair whipping around her face and hiding her left eye glared intensely, trying to measure his movements for a block.

Bastion finally caught up with her, swinging his stick in a horizontal cut. Bristol jumped up into the air, letting the swing pass under her feet before coming back to earth.

She jabbed her own training stick forward, meaning to strike Bastion dead in the chest. 

But Bastion dodged the blow by ducking down-and came up from underneath with an uppercut powered stick smash that knocked Bristol off her feet and onto the mat.

Bristol didn't have time to recover before Bastion's training saber was jammed underneath her chin. If she was to move, and if the saber was real, Bastion would have ended her life.

As it was, he pulled back and grinned. 

"Set point to Bastion." He said calmly. Bristol wiped the sweat from her brow and shook her head.

"More than that, dearie. You won the match." Bastion nodded.

"Three days can make a huge difference."

"If you use them right." 

"So what's next?" Bristol set her eyes on his, eyes filled with confidence and intense pride.

"Next, we give you the real thing." Bastion's eyes flashed for a minute, and he almost lost his mindset. But Bristol steadied him and stared up at him.

"Bastion, you can't lose it. For three days straight you've been practicing, honing the mindset that you always use when you fight. It's time that you took the mindset and overcame the fear inside of you." Bastion nodded slowly.

He stepped away and turned his back to Bristol. In his karate gi, he stood with one hand on the back of his head.

Then confidently, he turned around. Eyes dead serious, he nodded. 

A flash of light enveloped him, and when the dust cleared, he was once more wearing the battle armor that he had entrusted his life to, time and time again. 

The Powerstorm Armor stood confident, attached to the base of his beam saber recharge unit, wings kept tucked away in their pockets. He looked at Bristol and nodded.

"Let it begin."

Bristol held her breath, waiting for him to accomplish the goal that they both had strived for for 3 long torturous days.

Bastion breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. Then he snapped them open, not losing the icy stare within. His right hand reached up, clutching onto the saber's handle.

He pulled it out slowly, holding it in both hands, the top of the hilt at eye level.

He flipped the switch.

Once more, the fiery purple beam saber sprang to life, an angry serpent of deadly contained energy.

Only this time, Bastion did not freeze up. He stared right at the fury dancing in front of his face, unblinking. 

He swung the saber down in a cutting arc, confidently going through the motions of his three step saber slash.

He held it aloft again, then pulled his finger from the switch, letting the saber die out.

Silence reigned over the gym.

And Bastion finally nodded. A confident nod. A nod of success.

"The demons are gone." He said quietly.

"Well, that's good to know. But there's one more thing you could do, Bastion." 

Bastion and Bristol turned to face Hazil as he rolled into the gym, smiling widely, if not wearily.

"What is that, Hazil?" Bastion said calmly. Hazil blinked, then opened up his large chest compartment. 

With a flourish, he pulled out a metallic cylinder. Bastion blinked.

"That's a beam saber." Hazil shook his head.

"Not quite. Give me yours for a sec here." Bastion complied, flipping his own metallic saber handle to Hazil. The Medical Reploid caught it with ease, then brought a diagnostic tool with his other hand to the hilt.

"Downloading Program Dual threat-done." Hazil muttered. He threw the saber back to Bastion, then held the other saber in his hand.

"Bastion, take this one as well." Bastion complied, but was unsure of what to do with a pair of the weapons. Hazil shook his head.

"It's very simple. Take the bottom of their hilts and place them next to each other."

Bastion did as he was told. When they were within 2 cm of each other, they snapped together with a definitive click.

Then both blades ignited at once. Bastion's purple beam saber and the new blue one streamed from either end of the makeshift assembly, and Hazil grunted.

"Well, we know it works at least. Bastion, I gave you this for two reasons. One, it's a design possibility I wanted to investigate as available for all Hunters. Secondly, you were attacked by a dual beam saber. If you can wield this thing, it will eliminate the last of the demons threatening your sanity." 

Bastion nodded slowly, whirling the beam staff about with quiet proficiency.

Then he sped up. 

The blue and purple mixed, creating a giant spinwheel of plasma energy. Bastion finally stopped it, holding it at eye level horizontally.

Then he faced the two of them, his eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that they thought had vanished forever.

"I am Bastion. I am from the United Arabic Nations of the Mideast. They are a hardy people, for they faced the death of the desert every day. Now, I hold that same rugged spirit within me! I am more than a reploid-I am the desert. I am that power they feared, threatening to scrub their skin off of their bones with my winded sand, the heat that threatens to cook them to death. I am the barren wasteland where no enemy can survive. I AM BASTION-AND I AM THE DESERT."

He switched the sabers off, pulling them apart. Slipping the both of them into the pair of recharge holes on his saber recharger, he nodded confidently.

"I have the both of you to thank for my recovery. You have helped me get through a terrible time in my life, a time which can never be rivalled again." Bastion grinned with his joy.

"From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. You have resurrected me." He nodded.

"You have resurrected the Hunter of the desert."


	11. Candlelight And Muzzle Flash

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER NINE: CANDLELIGHT AND MUZZLE FLASH

The figure of Strobe Stallion soared angrily downwards towards Bastion. Bastion carefully watched the swoop and tilt of his opponent's wings as the maverick barreled down towards him, then swiftly blasted backwards to avoid the midair collision.

Stallion turned about, his nostrils flaring with hot exhaust. Raising an arm, Stallion prepared to fire a burst of missile fire that would scrap Bastion.

Bastion grinned fiercely, the wind kicking his hair back.

"Not today, maverick. Try some of your own medicine!" Bastion's Powerstorm wings extended to their maximum range, and the three pairs of gunports on the topmost ridge began to glow. With a whine, they discharged, sending razor sharp shrapnel shards towards his opponent.

Stallion barely had time to blink before Bastion's Mach 3 hornet storm shredded into his circuitry. The missile, half forged exploded in his arm, the massive damage so great that Stallion vanished completely in white hot fire.

The smoke cleared, and the lights dimmed. With a bell clang, Bastion once more found himself standing on the floor of the holographic simulator. He frowned.

"Aah, nuts. I hoped he would have survived that. I was looking forward to trying out my new Dual Slash." Bastion ruffled his hair back and nodded. "Computer, bring up new opponent. First Maverick Uprising, Tokyo Park And Forest Reserve. Remove Powerstorm Armor and lift safety precautions."

"Confirmed. Are you positive you want the safety precautions removed?"

"YES."

"Noted. Simulation will begin in five seconds." Bastion readied himself, feeling the tingle on his back as the Powerstorm Wings teleported back to his room for safekeeping and recharging. Flexing his fingers, he checked to make sure his two beam sabers were in their holsters, then waited.

The metallic surroundings shimmered as the light danced across his eyes, and then greenery came into existence. The wall climbing shrubs and the wooden netting, the gentle glow of special lighting for the flora coming into focus.

Bastion drowned out the emerging sounds of the chirping birds, and the wind gently rustling the thick foliage like delicate fingers of a specter. There was one very specific sound he was after in this encounter-

"There." Clambering from above, a cloaked figure came into view. Bastion brought his hands up and grabbed hold of the saber's hilts in his charger. Eyes watching with hawkish intensity, he waited.

At long last the figure landed onto the ground and decloaked himself. Hissing, the rail thin greenish lizard reploid lashed his tongue on the ground, spikes on the lateral axis kicking up dirt. Pincerlike hands clacked in the air, and the tail waved about angrily. Finally, the clearly robotic eyes rolled inside of their sockets, peering straight at Bastion.

Bastion pulled the sabers out and lit them up.

"Sting Chameleon, I presume." Sting hissed.

"You're not X!" Bastion smirked. It was incredible how the programmers had used the reports of the encounters to not only make an accurate battle composite for the holograms, but to also add in the knowledge up to that point possessed by the fighter.

"True. But I'm a Hunter, nonetheless. You've been a bad boy, Sting. You chose the wrong side to fight on." Sting cackled with a serpent hiss and crossed his arms.

"I doubt that, Hunter. I was one of the bessst!" Bastion shook his head.

"Was. Now you're slag." Sting roared angrily and leapt up above, vanishing into the foliage. Bastion shook his head.

"Oh no you don't." Bastion readied himself, hopping onto the other wall. With a jump off of it, he braced himself and activated his Dash Thrusters. "WHIRLING SLASHER!" Bastion gritted his teeth against the incredible G's that the move put on his body. But it was a powerful move that would more than even the fight.

Sure enough, the tumbling, bouncing Bastion finally found the cloaked maverick, knocking him down with a shorted out cloaking device, and several obvious saber wounds. 

Sting fell to one knee, gasping for air. Bastion landed, and took a moment to right his sensors. Then he stood holding both sabers, and brought them together. The hilts connected seamlessly, becoming the beam staff that was Bastion's newest weapon. Standing confident, Bastion shook his head.

"Sorry, Sting. You got no mercy with X. You'll have none from me." Bastion charged at Sting with a powerful thrust, then brought one end of the saber down. It sliced cleanly through the dazed maverick's right shoulder, severing the attached limb.

Bastion jumped into the air, pulling the saber out, and causing more damage in the process. Landing on the other side, Bastion turned, swinging the staff about in a horizontal cut as he righted himself, causing even more damage. 

Then, he swiftly separated the sabers once more and brought them down in a powerful crosscut, the Dual Slash, quartering what was left of the already dead maverick.

The green armored warrior went critical and exploded. Bastion leapt back as best he could, but the blast caught him nonetheless and slammed him into the wall.

The simulation ended, the ominous time clock flashing above. Record time for Bastion, but Zero still held the top time for Chameleon's defeat. Bastion groaned, rubbing his sore head.

"I'll have to watch out for that backblast. Albeit a powerful move, the Dual Slash gets you awfully close to an exploding opponent."

"I thought you liked to take things up close and personal." A cheery voice said calmly. Bastion turned his battered frame, smiling in recognition.

"Hey, Bristol. Back for more?" Bristol snorted, shaking her head.

"Lord, no. I think I've learned I can't beat you, now that you're back to normal. I'll settle for second." Bristol said. She folded her arms and looked up at the clock, still flashing with Bastion's time.

"Not bad, considering you were using weapons of mass overkill." Bastion scratched his head.

"Hey, do it any way you can. Survive, and stop the mavericks. That's the big thing. The rest is finesse and personal pride, all of which I exercise when I want to." Bristol frowned.

"Yes. You've been going through all these simulations like a madman. If I didn't know you were healed, I'd say you were still crazy. Do you know how long you've been in this simulator?" Bristol clipped the question short, her curt voice beginning to sink in. Bastion winced.

"Aah, I lost track of time." Bristol shook her head.

"Seven hours. Straight. Needless to say, other people would like to use this facility as well." Bastion nodded.

"Yeah. But there's only twenty one days left, Bristol." Bristol scoffed.

"And then what? How will all this training help you when you're out of work?" Bastion shook his head.

"Hey, the Hunters are being cut down to three Units then. As I see it, survival of the fittest here. The more efficient I prove myself and my Unit to be, the greater the odds that we'll survive the cut." Bristol clicked her teeth together.

"Understandable. Nonetheless Bastion, this place is beginning to get to you." Bastion blinked.

"How so?" Bristol folded her arms.

"Cabin fever, Shell Shock, the blahs. Call it what you will, but I know that a little variety in the routine helps. Sitting around here and running training drills all day will drive you nuts-and if not you, everyone else around." Bristol ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth, silently thinking.

"So what do you suggest I do? Take up golf?" 

"No. How about a night on the town?" Bastion frowned.

"Pardon?" Bristol smiled, nodding her head.

"Yes, that'd do the trick just dandy. We'll get you dressed up in your Sunday best, and then we can go out and enjoy Tokyo." 

"Oh? Any places in particular?" Bristol nodded.

"There's a new restaurant about. Che Dimangr'e. I hear they have excellent food there." Bastion rubbed his chin.

"Hmm. Could work. But how are we supposed to waltz in there? I mean, they probably won't serve reploids." Bristol sighed, slapping herself in the face.

"Bastion, you have the ability to warp out of your armor, correct?" Bastion nodded.

"Yeah, you've seen it in acti-" Bastion blinked. "Waiitasec-are you saying-?"

"What I'm saying is that at Six Thirty tomorrow night, I want to meet you in the Medical Bay. Dress fashionably-tuxes are always good. I will drag you out of here and make you have a good time if it kills me." 

"Bris-"

"Six-thirty, luv. Pip pip!" Bristol turned on her heel and swiftly walked out of the room. Bastion scratched his head, unsure of what had just occurred. But he had an inkling, an inkling that turned the inside of his stomach in three different directions. It was that same odd sensation he'd felt before, and this time he had a possible cause.

"Did she just ask me out on a date?"

"Lemme get this straight. You want me to WHAT?!" Hazil grumbled. Cain rubbed his chin, calmly absorbing the idea that X and Zero were placing before them. 

"Hazil, all we want you to do is come visit my foster family in Siberia and upgrade the Robot Master's weapons to current power standards." Hazil rolled back and forth, shaking his head.

"Hey, do you know how difficult that'll be?" Hazil finally said. X snorted. 

"Oh, come on. I appeal to your skills, your humanity-your ego." X waved a hand about Cain's office. "The Hunters have twenty one days before we go belly up. Recognizing this, you must realize that a new force is required. And who better than some of the strongest Robot Masters that my brother Mega Man had to face?" X smiled. "Besides, you'll learn something. For all you know of putting reploids back together again, you have to admit that near-reploid robots like Cossack's crew are a different matter altogether."

"Near-reploid." Hazil said softly. He put a hand over his eyes, breathing for a moment. Finally he looked at Zero, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. "Zero, just how close to reploid are these things?" Zero shrugged.

"Some more than others. Pharaoh Man, Ring Man, Drill Man and Bright Man seemed to have the widest field of interaction matrices." Hazil let the thought tumble about in his head. 

"I have to tell you all something right now." Hazil said. "First off, they're outdated. Their weaponry-indeed, the threshold of power they can hold is pretty limited in comparison to modern day reploids and warbots. If I tried to increase the power that their weapons grids could sustain without first giving their entire power system a major upgrade, they could very well go critical the first time they powered up for action." Hazil rubbed his chin. "Secondly, when I do increase their power systems to be able to cope with the powerful forces of modern day warfare, I don't know the adverse effects it'll have on them. It may cause them to go nuts, or blow a vital circuit-like the RULES OF ROBOTICS." Hazil let it hang in the air. 

That was an ominous prediction. Reploids could make choices, and therefore the Rules of Robotics were less stringent. But if these Robot Masters from the past were to lose a fuse, there would be no human thought circuitry to stop their attacks. If the Rules of Robotics were destroyed in their transformation, they would have to be destroyed. Period. 

Cain finally spoke up. Raising his walking stick onto his desk, he thrummed the pole with his right hand.

"Frankly Hazil, I don't see any other way about it. It also makes perfect sense. It's the only way that we can still keep protecting the world while keeping Cristoph and the GDC in the dark." Hazil, X and Zero looked at Cain. The old man's face was immersed in itself, and he was nodding. "Yes. I imagine that when the day comes when the Hunters are to be drastically cut, the GDC will be keeping close tabs on every single Hunter that is kicked off the force. If they were to vanish and leave for Siberia, the GDC would know something was up. BUT. The GDC can't keep tabs on a robotic force that they didn't even know still existed. As far as anyone cares to know, Cossack is dead, and his castle is nothing more than a tourist attraction. If Hazil were to equip them with some holographic equipment to alter their appearance, no one would be the wiser." Cain brought the stick back to the ground and pulled himself up.

"Hazil, there's no other way. You'll have to do it." Hazil sighed.

"Fine. It'll cost ya, though. Before I SET FOOT in that place, I want you all to give me a set of normal, humanoid legs like everyone else. Frankly, I've said before the jokes were getting to me, and I won't have an aging doddering fool like Cossack yukking it up and killing himself in laughter." Cain nodded.

"I think I can arrange to get you some legs. How about an hour from now? I have the afternoon off." Hazil nodded.

"Perfect. X, I want you to contact Cossack and get those robot's schematics. I want to know EXACTLY what I'm tinkering with come that far off day, capiche?" X grunted in response, then tore out of the room in a blaze of warped blue fire. Hazil finally turned to Zero.

"And you, my Crimson Hunter. I have an exceptionally BIG request to make. Eight year old Bourbon. Talk to Gavin of the 21st. He always has a good stash somewhere, even if he doesn't drink it." Zero frowned.

"Why would Gavin have high quality hooch if he didn't down it?" Hazil flung his hands in the air.

"Because he has a violent reaction to it? HOW SHOULD I KNOW?! JUST GET IT!" Hazil sighed. "Honestly, Cain." 

"No, I'm not attracted to you Hazil." Hazil twisted his face up in surprise. Cain smiled widely and shrugged.

"You said honestly. That's the honest truth. In the meantime, shove off to the Medical Bay and get the area prepped. I like my working conditions quiet." Hazil nodded, still staring oddly at the doddering old man who controlled the Hunters. With the quiet whine from his wheel base, Hazil rolled out of the office.

Cain checked the clock, then sat back in his chair and smiled, still giddy of the recent successes.

"Bastion's back in action, Hazil's getting his upgrade at last, and I don't have a headache. Wonder why?" Cain feigned deep thought, then snapped his fingers. "Oh yes. No matter what the GDC thinks, the Hunters are going to have the last laugh. Whether they like it or not, there will be more than three measly Hunter Units left to protect the earth." Cain chuckled, beginning to sing an old song called 'My Way.' 

"Regrets, I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention…"

"Wycost, you asleep?" Wycost opened his eyes. 

Isaiah again. It wasn't like the fool could see him through his glasses. Wycost creaked his joints back from stasis and shifted up.

"Isaiah, you should try and get some sleep. The Calcutta mission is only ten hours away." Isaiah shook his head, eyes bright and vigorous.

"Nah, I can't! Too excited!" Wycost sighed.

"Isaiah, there are a few reasons why you should get back to bed." Wycost lifted his glasses up, glaring at his friend. "First off, know that I care a great deal for you as a friend and teammate. Noting this, listen up carefully, because I want this to sink in." Wycost flipped his glasses back down.

"One: It's late. I'm tired, and want to get some sleep in before we have to get moving tomorrow. Two: We aren't going to Disneyland. We didn't win the Superbowl, and this isn't the High School Band Trip. Three: I'll put up with the usually cheery attitude most of the time. But now it's so aggravating I wouldn't think twice about dumping a pot of honey on your head." Isaiah snorted.

"All good, if not partially biting reasons."

"Good." Wycost leaned back, trying to doze off again. But then Isaiah tugged on his arm. Wycost growled. "I wasn't kidding, Isaiah. There's a huge ten gallon bee product in storage with your name on it."

"Nah, it's not that." Isaiah said irritably. "I just wanna know why you're so grouchy again."

"Again?" Isaiah nodded.

"There was a time when for a split second, you opened up and laughed. You smiled, and you seemed happy. Then we went to the main hall, J.K. Horn popped up on the screen, announced that the Hunters were getting a force cut, and all of a sudden you're back to being Mr. Prozac again." 

Wycost nodded slowly.

"There's a reason for that." Isaiah stared.

"What's the reason?" Wycost picked himself up, standing up and walking outside the barracks.

"Come outside. I'll tell you there." Isaiah followed willingly.

The wind blew outside, the cool night air being forced past their circuitry. Isaiah shivered softly, but Wycost clenched his left fist and maintained his calm. Finally, he turned to face Isaiah.

"For the most part, the Hunters didn't like me. And that suited my purposes just fine. I joined the Hunters to put an end to the mavericks, and everyone else who seemed to shun me was focused mainly on social graces." Wycost shook his head. "There were only three Hunters there who accepted me and treated me with respect." Isaiah waited. Wycost continued, uninterrupted.

"Those three were Mega Man X, Zero, and my Unit Commander, Bastion. We always managed to help each other out in the tough situations, but when the tedium after the Fifth Uprising showed up, we kind of lost sight of that." Wycost clenched his other fist, bringing it up to eye level. "Why I'm so mopey is that I know that they face the same threat of being kicked out of the service as everyone else there. I'm partially lucky in that respect, but not really." Wycost let his gaze go up, and stare into the stars.

"Isaiah, did I ever tell you WHY I left?" Isaiah shrugged.

"You said it got too boring, that your revenge had been carried out." Wycost nodded.

"It's more than that. I had applied for Unit leadership in the Hunters, so I could be a commander as well. And just after I had pushed X past a very dark emotional boundary, helped him overcome an obstacle in his life, I discovered that my request for leadership had been denied." Wycost spat out the last word.

"Denied, Isaiah. And more cruel than that was when I found out who had issued the no way." Wycost raised an index finger and pointed above. "It was X who had denied me leadership." Isaiah whistled. "He gave several reasons, all concerning the GDC's close examination of the Hunters. But there was something underneath it." Wycost's hand tightened even further in on itself, the fingernails digging into his palm. "X and Zero and Cain had ignored my incredible service record, my efficiency barely paralleled. Instead, they had finally given in to the naysaying of the Hunters en masse, fearing that if I were to be promoted, the GDC would object and the Hunters would be in trouble as a whole." Wycost laughed bitterly. "And it didn't help. Even after they had stopped that one chain of events, another took its place. The GDC still slammed them, and I wasn't to blame."

Wycost composed himself, turning about. 

"Now there's only one person left there who I still worry about. Bastion. He never doubted me for a moment. He realized that underneath my icy and ruthless façade, there was an individual whose life had been shattered. He realized that I fought to stop the same fate from befalling anyone else. He always supported me, always had a kind word. And now he's in the same jeopardy as all the other smutzes in that place." Wycost shook his head.

"That's the other reason why I left, Isaiah. I got fed up with all the crap that I kept getting." Isaiah pursed his lips, feeling the bitterness swell from his friend. Finally, he waked closer and put an arm on Wycost's shoulder. For once, Wycost didn't shrink away.

"Hey, Wycost. Realize this. No matter where you go, you'll always have people who look at you and will shy away. The trick is to ignore them push past the bitterness and find the few individuals in the world who will listen to you, and put up with your personality. Bastion was one of them. And so am I." Wycost looked at Isaiah, slowly letting a placid calm return to his face.

"Yeah. I suppose you're right."

"Good." Isaiah smiled again. "Come on. I think we both should be able to snooze easily now. There'll be big things happening tomorrow." Wycost nodded, as the two of them walked back into the crowded barracks.

"Yeah." Wycost said. "It's a new day."

"Filled with endless possibilities."

"Remind me-why are you pacing about MY Medical Bay, dressed up like you're going to a Mideatern Dance Session??" Hazil groaned. Standing on his new legs, Hazil annoyedly queried the pacing Bastion.

Bastion was decked out in refined studs, respectable clothing as if he was a rajah or other such Arabic Dignitary. His hair was for once, controlled, tied back behind his head. However, the bright orange coloring remained in the silky cloth, with the purple sash and red and gold trimming. 

Bastion turned to face Hazil, still shocked that the doctor had been granted his fondest wish for a pair of legs.

"What? Did you say something, Hazil?" Hazil slapped himself in the face.

"Oy. Bastion, you are FAZED OUT. Something has you preoccupied, and I wish you'd tell me just WHAT that thing was." Bastion shook his head, the hair bouncing lightly behind him.

"It's more of a someone. What time is it?" Hazil blinked for a moment, taking in the new revelation.

"The answer is 6:28, Civilian time." Hazil even bothered to give the now humanized Bastion unmilitary time. Bastion took it in.

"Still a while to go yet." 

"Just who are you meeting?" Hazil shook his head at his own statement. "Wait! Don't asnwer, let me guess-Bristol, right?" Bastion stopped in mid-plod, then turned about, his face full of shock.

"Correct." Hazil's eyes darkened.

"Ahh, geez. It's hit you too now?" Bastion frowned.

"What's hit me?" 

"Just where are you two going, looking like that?" Bastion shrugged.

"A new restaurant in town she wanted to try out." Hazil grumbled, smacking himself in the head again.

"Who made the suggestion to do this?"

"She did." Hazil took in a deep breath, then pushed his hand out.

"Hand me a pillow, Bastion." Bastion halted for a moment at the request, but finally pulled a headrest off one of the beds and gave it to the doctor.

Hazil promptly smashed his head through the bag, tearing the cloth and sending feathers all over the room. Bastion hiccoughed in shock.

"Aah, that didn't help much. Bastion, did you know that when you whack your face into a pillow too hard, it'll rip?" Bastion, eyes wide shook his head.

"I-Never thought of that before--Hazil." He spoke haltingly. Hazil shook his head.

"Calm down, buster. I'm not going nuts. I am just in a state of disbelief right now."

"Why so?" Bastion asked. Hazil breathed again.

"From my observations, it seems that you and Bristol are-"

"Sorry to keep you waiting, luv." Bristol's voice rang into the room as the Medical Bay door slid open.

Hazil and Bastion swiveled about.

Both let their jaws drop.

There Bristol stood, her slender frame all of a sudden seeming more real than ever before.

She was wearing a long dress, that went down past her knees and didn't quite make it to her ankles. It went up and had a neck line, but comfortably let her arms slip through the holes on either side. The dress was dark blue in color, adorned with sparkling gems of black and white.

Her ears held glittering silver earrings, not flashy, but serving only to enhance the brilliant radiance of her smile. Her long blond hair cascaded down to her shoulders, constantly shifting across the neckline.

And lastly, a pale periwinkle blue shawl was draped about her shoulders, the sheerness unmatched.

"Bristol--wow." Bastion finally managed to erk out. The entire effect was stunning, and even Hazil had to force himself to sit down before he crumpled onto the floor. Bristol smiled again, examining Bastion's appearance.

"The Nomadic Mideastern royalty look? It looks practically stunning, Bastion. An excellent choice." Bastion nodded, pushing back his already tied hair.

"And your outfit--Bristol, you look like the night."

"The night in the day." Bristol heckled. Bastion nodded.

"Yeah." He finally broke out of the trance. "So, should we get going?" Bristol noddd. Bastion shut his eyes, but then Bristol tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh no, Mr. Rajah. Tonight, we will be as inconspicuous as humans. Warping's not an option." Bastion smiled a bit and nodded.

"Sorry. So, where do we find a cab?" Bristol shook her head.

"Oh no. Did I forgot to mention that Cain put out for a limousine tonight?" Bastion raised his eyebrows.

"Cain? The money pincher?" Bristol folded her arms and grinned devilishly.

"Well, he needed a little convincing." Bristol cracked her knuckles as she spoke. Bastion grinned.

"I can imagine." Bristol looked towards the door.

"Shall we go then?" Bastion took on her English accent and snorted.

"Rather."

They left the Medical Bay, walking out towards the exit to where the limousine sat parked, awaiting their arrival. As they walked, Bastion felt his hand slip into Bristol's. She squeezed it softly, and they looked at each other.

A conjoined smile that seemed to light up the entire room.

Back in the Medical Bay, Hazil walked over to his personal storage cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aged liquor.

"I'm gonna need a stiff one after that." Hazil said wearily. "I had questions about those two, and now they're answered." Hazil downed a small sip of his brownish syrup.

"Bastion and Bristol are more than friends. They are companions."

"It's all quiet here." Jad grumbled, kicking his feet on the floor as he lazily watched the monitors in the HQ's war room. Kol also was with him, wearing the same bored expression.

"Kinda makes you wonder why you signed up, eh?"

"Darn tootin' me friend. I wanted to kick kiester. So far, it's all been training. And if the Hunters are going belly up in Twenty Days, where does that leave us?"

"In about the same condition as these alarms that haven't gone off in ages, Jad." Kol said, motioning with a hand to the awaiting strobe lights, silent and unblinking. "When the Hunters bite the bullet, our Unit may be one of them that goes down the tubes." Jad shook his head.

"No way! We're with the 21st! Bastion's Unit! And now Bastion is back in action as well. I mean, come on! We're almost top notch here." Kol chortled, scratching his helmeted head.

"Jad, look at me with a straight face for a moment, and consider the following somber things. Our luck hasn't been all that great recently. What makes you think we'll be left to continue on? As good as the 21st is, the 17th and Zero's Special #00 Unit are better."

"There's still room for a third Unit Kol. We're more versatile than those Units are…" Jad clenched his fist, glaring. Finally, he released his anger and sighed. "Besides, you gotta have some faith in what you do. Otherwise, it's all meaningless." Kol finally shrugged.

"There is that. So now what?" Jad scuffed his feet on the floor, then looked up.

"Run another scan of the world. Maybe something is going on that the passives can't pick up." Kol nodded.

"Gotta be better than another game of FreeCell." Kol's fingers danced across the keys as he brought up the scanning program, then activated it.

On his signal, the Hunter's satellite system high above in orbit all activated their sensors, probing the surface for distress signals, explosions, tremors, or even the most minute wailing siren.

Once the data was collected, it was routed through the Hunter's main processor, which filtered out the natural planned occurrences of geological phenomena, flight plans and medical aid craft.

Billions of functions being compiled all at once.

And the core computer found its abnormality. Frantic telephone calls for help, loud explosions, and perhaps most frightening, the word "MAVERICK!" being repeated within the same ten mile radius. So, the computer did what it was programmed to.

It hit the panic button. The klaxons, long silent finally activated, sending out the siren all over the base. 

In the Medical Bay, Hazil looked up from some of his pre design schematics for Cossack's robots, consternation clouding his face.

The Hunters in the training area looked up through flustered faces, glaring angrily.

The ones in the Cafeteria had the most varied responses. Some dropped their forks o the floor, others trays. Others walked into walls as they looked up at the blinking lights.

In the War Room, where only Jad and Kol were stationed, they both pounded a fist into their other palms. 

"I KNEW IT!" Jad growled. "I knew that they'd be back." Kol nodded.

"Probably another semi-maverick threat. Ya know, the uninfecteds just getting fed up with life again."

"Even if that's the case, we still gotta wipe 'em off the face of the earth!" Jad blurted out. "You figure out where this disturbance is located, I'm gonna rastle up some Hunters for action." Kol grunted in agreement, then let his fingers fly over the keyboards.

A few seconds later, Cain hobbled in through one of the sliding doors. His weary face was stern and alert for anything.

"What's the news, boys?" Kol looked up from his console just enough to obtain positive recognition of Cain, then he looked back down to his work.

"Boss, we got another maverick situation." Cain frowned.

"Is it the virus?" Kol shook his head.

"I can't tell from here. But it makes sense that it's just another bunch of radical reploids flying off the hinge." Cain rolled his tongue around the inside of his cheek.

"Alert the 21st Unit. Keep the 17th on standby." Jad pumped his fist heroically and grinned.

"Ya got it, Cain. Only member of the 21st not on base is our good leader Bastion." Cain sat down in the command chair and squeezed a stress ball.

"Oh? Why is that?" 

"Because he's off in Tokyo just having a fun time." All eyes turned to Hazil as heWALKED-NOT ROLLED--through the open sliding doors, his arms swinging back and forth. Cain grunted.

"So you're up and about already. That's a good thing. Now just where exactly is he?" Hazil coughed loudly, then folded his arms.

"Doctor's discretion. Let's just say he's in good company." He motioned up to Kol. "Signal him with the silent transmitter. He should pick it up in his head easily." Kol looked at Cain for an answer, and Cain finally nodded.

"Do it." Kol didn't waste time in punching in Bastion's comm data and hitting the transmit button. Just then, Cain raised a hand.

"Did we get a pinpoint on where this little skirmish will take place?" Kol brought up his scan data. He nodded.

"Right smack dab in the middle of Southern Asia's India. Looks like Calcutta from here." Cain rubbed his chin.

"I'm sure there's something about that location that I can't bring up--" Cain let his sentence trail off.

This wasn't the time to bring up odd quirks in his memory.

This was the time to fight.

"For the madam, a Caesar Salad, light on the croutons. And for monsieur, sauteed mushrooms in a wine sauce." The waiter's accent was as real as the food which was palced on the table before Bastion and Bristol.

Bristol's eyes were sparkling like they never had before. Bastion could see the gleeful glow within all too easily as he thanked the waiter again. Discreetly, the waiter backed away a few steps, then turned and left their company. 

Bastion raised his wineglass, which was filled with a delicate chardonnay of the restaurant's private stock.

"To the future." Bastion said softly, his smile broad. Bristol raised her own glass, and they clinked them together.

"Whatever it may hold." Bristol replied before taking a small sip of her wine. Putting the glass down, she let her excited eyes look about the room. "This is a beautiful place, Bastion." Bastion nodded for a moment, being careful not to upset his headdress. In a far corner of the room, a quartet of string instruments strummed out engrossing Classical Music. The notes wafted through the room like the smells of the scrumptious food and the good company.

"It is." Bastion finally said. "This was a good choice of yours." Bastion smiled. "Thank you." Bristol blinked.

"For what?" 

"For pulling me back from the land of depression." Bastion said. Shaking his head softly, he nodded. "Bristol, through and through we've helped each other. I was your guardian angel…and in a time of need, you were mine." Bastion stopped for a moment, not quite sure what to say next. Bristol smiled, then took a bite of her salad. Once she had swallowed it, she spoke up.

"Do go on." Bastion cleared his throat.

"This may come out awkward, Bristol, so bear with me." Bristol waited intently. Bastion shifted in his seat.

"Whenever I'm around you, its like the world seems to gain just a hint more sunlight. The joys seem greater, and the fog never lifts. When I leave, there's a sense of longing within me." Bastion's smile turned sad. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Bristol's face glimmered for a moment at his words, and then tears welled up in her eyes. She sniffled back a sob, and nodded. Bastion frowned.

"What's wrong, Bristol?" Bristol shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.

"Nothing's wrong, Bastion." Bristol said, almost choking on her words. Finally, she looked up, her smile happy, relieved, and tearfully so. "For once, everything's RIGHT." Bristol put her napkin back in her lap and nodded. "I had the same feelings for you as well. The same situations. The same glint of life beyond life in the world when you touched me-held my shoulder, comforted my tears. I was afraid to admit them. I didn't think you would reciprocate."

"Reciprocate what?" Bastion asked. "Tell me what I'm feeling!" He pleaded. Bristol's hands came up, wrapping themselves around his hand. She looked into his face, for once truly ecstatic.

"Bastion, you are feeling the most powerful force known within the confines of emotion. What you feel is the same thing I do. What you are feeling…is love." Bastion blinked, stunned at the word.

"Love?" Bristol laughed softly.

"Yes, love. Reploids are no different from humans when it comes to this. You just feel right with a person you know. Love is a powerful force, Bastion. To deny it can kill you, but embracing it will only strengthen you." 

Bastion's world flipflopped all over the place. The room spun, his hearing went out of whack. Only Bristol seemed real. Just her face. Her soft gleaming eyes.

That radiant smile.

The lips that made the smile.

Bastion felt himself being drawn across the table to them.

And then contact. His eyes were shut, but he knew what was happening.

He and Bristol's lips were connected. In a kiss of their affection for one another.

The world gained new reality at that moment. And only a soft buzzing in his ears existed, the only sound in this new reality of happiness.

But the buzzing wasn't from the kiss.

Bastion broke the embrace, frowning. 

It was his internal silent alarm.

The Hunters were calling. 

"Bastion, what's wrong?" Bristol asked, her face covered in worry, and also rejection. "Did I do something wrong?" Her face dropped.

Bastion let his hand pull it back up, and he smiled into her face.

"It isn't you, Bristol. I do care deeply for you, and were it not for circumstances, I would have continued to kiss you."

"Circumstances?" Bastion nodded to Bristol's question.

"The Hunters just paged me."

"That means they paged us then, luv." Bastion frowned.

"This could be a dangerous mission. I won't have you walking into death. I just found you, Bristol…I don't want to lose you." Bristol frowned.

"The feeling is mutual. Where you go, I go. I'll watch your back, and you watch mine." Bristol got up quickly, and the waiter walked over concerned.

"Is everything all right, madam?" Bristol nodded.

"It's been a truly lovely evening, sir. But I'm afraid we really must dash off. Duty calls." Bastion got up as well.

"Should we walk out?" Bristol shook her head, a devilish grin covering it.

"No. We warp." Bastion grinned back.

"Ooh. I like your thinking." Bastion grabbed Bristol's hand, then shut his eyes. He activated his internal transporter, then picked the destination; MHHQ. 

In a blaze of blue, orange and red light, Bastion and Bristol vanished from the crowded restaurant, flying away to their home.

The waiter dropped his tray of drinks in shock.

"Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends…" 

"We're so glad you could attend…"

"COME INSIDE, COME INSIDE!" The trio softly hummed out an old rock song's opening lyrics as they readied their battle systems. Gavin, Jad and Kol had undertaken the task of rounding up the 21st to the briefing room. Now they were only waiting for Bastion to show up.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting." Bastion finally walked through the door, dressed in his usual red and orange armor of the desert. All heads turned, and Bastion waved a hand to silence them. "What's the situation?" Kol stepped up to the podium, clearing his throat.

"Twenty minutes ago, Jad and I ran a full scan of the planet. Most of its was quiet, but there was one place where the alarms found trouble. Calcutta, India. Further reports show that there are reploids running amok, blowing stuff up and generally having fun in the overpopulated country." Bastion nodded.

"So, we ship out." Bastion turned to face the masses. "All right everyone. Equip for full out combat. Stock up on Sub-Tanks if we have them, and get your mind focused. We want to go in able to handle anything. ANYTHING." 

Bastion was now stone hard serious. Gone was the glee from his face of the dinner just minutes before. There was only the Hunter…and the mission.

The Twenty First Unit mobilized quickly, eagerly getting up and readying their Busters and sabers, running last minute diagnostics and buffing out the few dings from previous encounters.

Bastion readied himself by warping his Powerstorm Armor back onto his back. As it seamlessly connected with the beam saber rechargers, he checked to make sure both sabers were ready in their charge ports.

They were. More importantly, Hazil had snagged him a Sub-Tank as he had been walking to the meeting.

"We're all set, boys." Bastion boomed. "WARP OUT!"

The room grew silent as the Hunters of the 21st "Lightning Strike" Unit vanished into the jetstreams towards India. Finally, only Bastion and Bristol remained. Bristol folded her arms.

"I'm set when you are." Bastion grunted.

"Your beam saber ready?" Bristol nodded. Unlike the others, she had refused installation of a beam saber recharger on her armor. It connected seamlessly to the side of her arm by electromagnetic forces, a deadly weapon that Bristol would not have altering her appearance.

"Come on then, luv. We have to make the world a safe place again." Bastion grinned, then warped out behind his Unit.

Bristol followed shortly thereafter.

The 21st was back in action.

"Give me some cover fire!" Gavin hollered over the explosions. Ducking down to avoid the ground skimming artillery barrage, he gritted his teeth and clenched his saber tighter.

Only ten seconds from warp, and already the Hunters were pinned down by the maverick forces.

This time it was different. There had been no military bunker that the mavericks had broken into. 

They had the weaponry when they had arrived. 

Which meant that someone had been building up power for some time.

And that meant, to Gavin with his astute assumptions…

This just didn't happen. Someone had been planning this. They would have built up enough armament to take on any threat…even the best of the Hunters.

"We're in deep crap." Gavin croaked. Another shot blew overhead, sending shrapnel below. Gavin cried out in pain as a hot shard of metal slashed across his arm. Behind him, he knew it was worse.

"MEDIC! MEDIC!" Came the cry. Gavin gritted his teeth on hearing the words.

His wound was superficial. The blast had done heavy damage behind.

It was this scene that Bastion and Bristol found when they coalesced into existence from their long distance warp.

Luckily for Bastion, he and Bristol came into existence high above the ground, Bastion's Powerstorm Wings opening instantly to provide a constant hover.

"My God." Bastion finally uttered after a moment.

It was not a pretty picture. Bristol shook her head as she hung from Bastion's boot.

"I'm going down there." Bristol said quietly. Bastion jerked his head down, stunned.

"You crazy?! They're getting mangled!" Bristol looked up at him, snapping her own angry look into position.

"I've been training for a reason. The instincts will handle the rest. If you have a better idea, LIST THEM." Bastion scanned the arena of conflict.

"There." His eyes focused in. A giant transport ship hovered slowly above the ground, watching everything. From it came waves of ground troops, maverick reploids, firing off shot after shot of firepower towards the pinned 21st below. "We have to get my Unit out of there NOW! If they remain any longer, they'll be fried for sure." Bastion clenched his fist.

"You sure about this Bristol?" Bristol nodded, finally releasing the electromagnetic lock on her beam saber and activating it in her right hand.

"Let's put an end to this." Bristol released her hold, falling downwards. As she dropped, Bastion could make out a huge thrust of power from her Double Air-Dash Boot Thrusters, and see her hurtling down towards the nearest artillery ground pounder, heavily armored but chugging along at good speed nonetheless. "Smile, cheeky. You're on Candid Camera." Bristol slammed the saber down in a downwards arc swing, opening up a gash in the control pod.

She fell through the newly created hole into the cockpit of the craft, and the reploid pilot turned about, snarling angrily as he readied a Buster into firing position.

Bristol sliced him clean in half with another swing.

"Not today, maverick bastard." Bristol said calmly. She looked around her, then hopped into the pilot's seat. Turning the wheel around, she allowed herself another grin. "Let's see how this turtle handles in action." 

Bristol, now in command of the hijacked maverick vehicle, wasted no time in swinging the craft about and firing several blasts of shrapnel fire into the oncoming other craft.

High above, Bastion grinned widely.

"That's my Huntress." He looked down to his Unit, then pulled out both sabers, sliding the hilts together to form his beam staff. "She'll do some damage, but it won't last for long." Bastion activated his thrusters to their maximum level, barreling down towards the one tank that was still deadset on blowing up the small number of Hunters in his "Lightning Strike" Unit.

He screamed angrily, bringing the staff high above his head for the ultimate strike. 

One diagonal slash along the stern of the hovercraft.

A turn blade that sliced it in half.

And finally, in the front of the craft, a quick overturn and a powerful blast of Powerstorm Shrapnel.

Bastion was far enough away when it exploded he received no harm. As he landed, only cheers came to his ears.

"Bastion, you saved us all!" Jad yowled, charging up his Buster. As the other members of the 21st also activated their weapons, their wounds were forgotten, replaced by the exhilaration of taking out the mavericks.

Bastion detached his sabers, holding one in each hand. He looked at his Unit, some of the reploids already badly damaged enough that they were in stasis, others only wincing from their injuries.

"They caught us off guard."

"More than that, Bastion." Gavin growled. "They were expecting us." Bastion nodded.

"Gavin, take three others and get the heavily wounded out of the danger area. The rest of you…FOLLOW ME!" Bastion blasted off from the bunker, making tracks towards the tank's approaches.

Bristol's tank was the closest, and just before it was annihilated by a shot from the five on the mavericks front lines, she leapt out of it, dashing straight up in a blast of Thruster power. Bastion was up in the air alongside of her with a single pulse of thrusters, his face worried.

"You all right?" Bristol spat out a curse.

"I took down two of those bloody things, but they're just too accurate for my tastes." Bastion nodded.

"Most of the 21st is just behind me. I suggest you join them for now…better chance of survival."

"I don't think so, luv."

"BRISTOL! LISTEN TO ME!" Bastion finally screamed. Bristol silenced herself. "If you do care about me…please, just keep yourself safe by sticking with everyone." Bristol blinked for a moment, then finally nodded.

"All right." Bastion and Bristol finally dropped onto the ground, their eyes scanning for any shots heading their way.

Sure enough, the tanks were targeting them.

Bristol dashed backwards into the throng of screaming, dashing and hopping Hunters on their way towards the mavericks in front.

Bastion activated not only his Powerstorm thrusters, but his basic Dash Boots as well. Having increased his speeds to greater than 400 MPH, Bastion gritted his teeth through the incredible G forces and readied his sabers for his deadly strike against the line of tanks approaching. 

They fires shots at him, but Bastion sidedashed to avoid them, and the shrapnel clouds exploded too far behind him to hit. Bastion finally came to the first one, slicing through it with ease. His speed carried him through the wreckage, and he propped his sabers forward.

Like a powerful drill, Bastion slammed through tank after tank, in one side and out the other. The entire line fell, and Bastion was a hundred feet from the garrison line before all the tanks blew up.

Finally, he set his sights on the massive hovering transport from where all the other maverick foes had come from. Raising his two sabers into a guard position, he prepared to charge at it, despite the blazing cannons that continued to rain fire down on the ground in front of it.

"Twenty First Unit, rally with me!" Bastion cried out. The Unit was soon beside him, having only had to make the crossing across the field of eliminated foes. Their faces were grim, dusty and full of anger at the force who had troubled them once more.

"Mavericks. Whether they're infected or not, the meaning is still there." Bastion growled. "They mean to cause harm to anyone who approaches."

As if to silence him, the hovercraft's roof slid open, letting a powerful force fly from the interior.

Flying gundrones, a good four dozen slipped out from the opening, followed by heavily armored craft similar to the Bee Bladers of the First Uprising. 

Bastion's eyes flew open as he examined the threat.

"Heads up, people." Bastion finally said. "They're not done with us yet." His hands tightened about his sabers, and Bastion flew up into the air a bit. Prepping his wings, Bastion released a cloud of shrapnel to shred some of the oncoming forces.

The hot metal zipped along, and finally reached the cluster of heavily armed forces opposing the 21st.

A glimmer of a protective shield shined into existence, and the shrapnel vanished in puffs of smoke. Bastion suddenly felt drained of all his courage.

"Oh no." Bastion knew what was coming. "SPREAD OUT!"

The Unit responded as quickly as they could, running away from their location. Just then, the ship opened fire on that spot with all guns, while the flying craft wasted no time in also blasting shot after shot.

Pandemonium erupted as the flying craft flew out from the protective shield to individually target the Hunters. Bastion flew up into the air, trying to take them all down as much as he could. He targeted one heavily armored rotodrone, charging at it with his sabers ready.

But then a second flew down from above, right in front of him. Its autocannons raised, ready to spray jacketed death into Bastion.

Bastion knew he would not survive the attack.

But then a surprise.

A flash from above, and the glint of another beam saber--dark black. The gun's barrels were hacked off , and the drone exploded on itself, sending it falling to the ground below. Bastion also could barely make out another figure drop down to the ground, following the devastated drone. 

He followed it, if only because what he had seen flash before his face had brought back a haunting memory of a dark night, not so long ago.

Landing on the ground, he found himself staring at the same short reploid with the smirking attitude.

"YOU." Bastion said hoarsely. The reploid harrumphed, his right hand steadily holding a gleaming black beam staff. Bastion pointed with a beam saber. "It's you…AGAIN." Bastion's gaze went from astonishment to ferocity. "If you came to take me down, you'll have a hard time with it." Bastion snapped his two blades together into the staff formation and readied himself.

The other reploid clacked his teeth and shook his head.

"Pitiful fool. Don't get in my way, or I WILL fight you." The cocky reploid snorted. "But I'm sorry to squash your violent objective. I don't have time to mess with you now. We still have to eliminate the snake." 

"We?" Bastion growled, not lowering his saber. The other reploid narrowed his eyes.

"Just stay out of my way from now on, Hunter." With a blast of dash thrusters, the reploid began to make tracks towards the huge hovercraft, still protected by its energy shield. As he dashed, a second figure warped down beside him and also made a path towards the craft. 

Bastion's stomach tightened.

"ARE YOU TWO CRAZY?!" Bastions creamed towards them. "YOU'LL GET YOURSELF KILLED!"

The two reploids paid Bastion little heed as they continued to charge headfirst towards the ship. Dodging shots left and right, the pair kept their pace up and finally leapt onto the hull of the ship. Bastion couldn't make out much from his distance, but it seemed as though that they had used their sabers to slice off a chunk of the hull.

As the energy shield flared into life, and then flickered from existence, Bastion realized what they had accomplished.

They'd destroyed the shield emitters. Bastion still was unsure of them.

They had attacked him on that night.

They also attacked the mavericks on some missions.

They were just odd. But as they sliced open the hull, a powerful blast of energy blew them back away from the ship.

Their screams were loud.

But the sound of what emerged from the hovercraft was louder.

A giant warcraft, plasma Busters bristling from every streamlined port and wing.

As soon as it had come up though, the Hunters of the 21st wasted no time in throwing everything at it.

X-Busters sang with the barrage of fire, while the saber troops watched helplessly. Bastion fired off a shot of Powerstorm Shrapnel for good measure, and finally the warmachine began to whine down, suffering from its wounds. Bastion raised his hand.

"STAND DOWN!" He bellowed. "Let me finish this." His troops obeyed, even though they were prepared to blow it out of the sky should he fail.

Below, Bristol watched helplessly, shaking her head.

"Live, Bastion. Live." Bastion couldn't have heard her if he had wanted to.

As Bastion soared in closer, slashing the port wing off with his beam staff, he suddenly felt a chill run down his back. Shuddering as if he had stepped into a blizzard, he shook off the odd feeling in his head.

Still, something wasn't right about this at all. There was something terribly wrong here, and he couldn't identify it.

The warcraft finally whined its last cry, slamming into the ground, its engines spewing smoke. Huge billowing clouds of grayish smoke that enshrouded the destroyed machine.

Bastion landed, holding his beam sabers ready in a defensive posture.

All eyes were on the craft, and for once the field was silent.

No one even breathed. Even the two mysterious reploids that no one knew…Allegro and Andante…gritted their teeth to the pain of the powerful blast that had caught them off guard and waited.

Finally, there came a sound from the smoky wreckage, now totally unseeable within the cloud of smoke. 

The sound of the cockpit opening up.

And then footsteps.

As the sun was clouded out, giving the earth a shadowy pallor, the only sound that disturbed the silence was the slow and plodding footsteps of a lone person.

Finally, the figure's outline became more visible. It was armored, full body. It was tall, but not overtly. Not thin, but not overbuilt.

Finally, it completely removed itself from the smoke. Standing erect, it nonetheless looked in pain.

But it wasn't its expression that caused the world to go dark for Bastion.

It was the reploid who held the expression. 

Blackened dark green armor.

A chevron chest plate.

A Buster on its right hand.

And a pair of dark black glasses that covered the figure's eyes.

"My God…" Bastion croaked. Bristol also felt her chest tighten up in recognition.

"It's…"

"Wycost?!"


	12. Return To Insanity

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER TEN: RETURN TO INSANITY

"Wycost…" Bastion's mouth felt dry as he croaked out the name. "Wycost…what the hell are you doing here?"

Murmurs of disbelief rang through the 21st Unit. A few finally spoke up, and their voices weren't happy.

"I knew it! I KNEW he was a fraggin' maverick!" Upraised Busters began to whine up for charge shots. Bastion couldn't believe his ears.

"NO!" He screamed. The Busters faltered in their stalward aim. "For mercy's sake, DON'T SHOOT!" Bastion still held his sabers aloft. "Let me handle this…"

Bastion steadily walked towards the glazed figure, keeping his defense up.

"Wycost…Wycost, it's me…Bastion!" 

Wycost was almost catatonic, even though his entire body was shaking. His mouth opened, even though his eyes were unfocused.

"Ba…stion…R…RUUUUNNN…" Wycost croaked out, the syllables coming in halting repeats of themselves. His body began to shake more violently, and slowly, his Buster began to charge up a shot of plasma.

Bastion's face held consternation as he stepped away from his friend, hurt and unsure.

"Wycost, what's going on? You don't do this kind of thing!" 

Then it dawned on Bastion. His face grew pale as his vital fluids circulated faster.

The situation was now all too clear.

Wycost would never do something like this consciously. For all his bitterness and anger, he would never go maverick like this.

It was something else making him do it. Something pushing him to this extreme.

Something dark and evil…something which hadn't been seen for a year.

"It's the virus…" Bastion croaked softly. Regaining his senses, he spoke louder. "It's the Virus…THE VIRUS!"

Finally, the dark power of the Maverick Virus, now resurrected after a year of hibernation came into full bloom.

Its newest host, the powerful and embittered Wycost was a strong reploid. Bastion had never wanted to try his luck against the green Hunter before.

He certainly didn't want to do it while Wycost had the full blown fury of the Maverick Virus to back him up.

Finally, Wycost screamed, charging at his old Commander with ultimate fury.

For once, Wycost had been unable to fight it.

The virus had won out over his systems.

IT WAS STRONGER.

"Wycost, I'm sorry." Bastion uttered as he dashed away from Wycost's charge attack. Holding his sabers steady, he pushed them together and formed his beam staff.

His world was falling apart again.

For all his personal feelings, he had to push them aside. He had to be a Hunter.

He had to kill Wycost to save the world.

Or…did he? Bastion's mind raced feverishly in a pursuit for the course of action that would save his friend.

Wycost fired a barrage of plasma shot at Bastion. Bastion took to the air to avoid, then barreled down while swinging his staff in a circular shield in front of him to deflect the shots.

Wycost dashed backwards and popped off a half charged powershot. Bastion took it in the shoulder, and he grunted in pain.

Wycost chose that moment to charge at Bastion, screaming his fool head off. Bastion was weakened by the shot he had taken, and was unable to dodge the blow quickly enough.

Bastion went flying across the Indian turf, skidding along the ground, still jarred from the blow. Wycost was on him like a mad rabid dog, slamming punch after punch into Bastion's face.

Bastion kicked Wycost off of him, giving himself some breathing room to blast off into the sky to avoid more shots.

Wycost was on his feet instantly, firing another barrage of shots into the air.

This time, luck was not on Bastion's side.

Several shots connected with the thrusters of Bastion's Powerstorm Armor. Bastion didn't even notice it as the secondary thruster systems went critical…

And exploded.

Bastion fell to the ground, his back a smoking and charred mass of melted armor. As he slammed into the ground, Bastion could hear the cries from his Unit, the angry voices coming into a cacophony of noise.

His systems were sluggish and unresponsive, and every part of him screamed in pain.

But he could hear the plodding footsteps of Wycost's approach. 

Those dull, plodding footsteps of a killer's sharpened insanity.

He turned himself over, his only good hand…his left…barely holding onto the beam staff.

Wycost finally stood above Wycost, his covered eyes unresponsive. His jaw was set, and there was only contempt and hatred. Wycost's Buster came down, pointing at Bastion's face.

Bastion's world turned bright white in that moment.

A flash of energy raced through his systems. 

Not because the Maverick Virus had returned.

Not because he could die.

Because he had made a promise to Bristol that he would live.

Bastion's left hand deactivated the staff function of his energy blades, and taking the one saber he held in his hand, he swung it up, slicing clean through the Buster pointed at his face.

The Buster crackled for a moment, the violent energy it had been collecting now unable to escape in a controlled manner. It could only escape one way now.

A violent explosion of white hot plasma energy incinerated Wycost's right arm clean off, and blasted the Maverick ex-Hunter backwards to the ground, knocking him into shocked stasis.

Bastion, already lying flat was unable to dodge the heatblast that charged into his face and his tattered body.

Silence after the blast.

And then the voices came back to life.

"Bastion!" Bristol cried out, her voice full of anguish. She ran beside him, propping his head up. His hair was bedraggled and burned, the elegant lines now destroyed. Bastion tried to ignore the intense pain in his body, and he finally drained his Sub-Tank.

His repair systems used the energy and instantly set to work fixing his damaged and battered body. 

Enough so that Bastion was able to climb to his feet. But it was still not enough.

Wycost had done him in good.

And worse, his cherished Powerstorm Armor was blown to shreds.

Even with the Sub-Tank, Bastion knew he was at critical levels of disrepair.

"I made a promise I'd live." Bastion grimaced as he leaned on Bristol for support. Bristol sniffled back her tears.

"You did." Bastion looked over to Wycost, in stasis and in as much need of medical care as himself. Some of the 21st Unit members were crowding around him, readying to end his life then and there. Bastion raised a hand and bellowed in fear.

"NO!" They stopped and turned in shock. "Don't…kill him. We have to…get him back to the HQ…Hazil needs to examine him." 

"But boss!" Jad growled. "He tried to kill you! He's gone maverick! Bleeding infected maverick! We HAVE to kill him!" Bastion shook his head, coughing loudly.

"Not yet…Wycost is strong…stronger than I am. He was able to destroy the virus within once…it's stronger now." Bastion limped over to the cluster and looked down at his old friend.

His old friend. He wasn't sure what to think of Wycost now.

"If we don't know just what we're up against…we'll all be in trouble. Not just him." Bastion sighed. "Warp back to base, people. I want a full report on Cain's desk." Bastion looked about, just now remembering something he'd almost forgotten.

"Where are those two reploids that took out the hovercraft's shield systems?" Bristol shook her head.

"They warped out of here once you blew up Wycost's Buster arm." Bastion grimaced again.

"There'll be time…to ponder that later." His words came short and halting with his wounds. "I need…to get to the Medical Bay." Bristol nodded.

"I'll take you there." Bastion sighed.

"Why do I feel like everything has just taken a turn for the worse?"

"CURSE THEM!" Allegro yowled. Slamming his helmet into the wall, he swore again. "Those blasted Hunters have time and time again RUINED things for us!" Andante's reaction was a little less rash as he began to inspect his damage.

"That one maverick caught us off guard with his warcraft's explosive entrance." Allegro yowled in pain, feeling his own severe wounds building up.

"Lucky shot." Allegro finally admitted. "Lucky shot." He frowned for a moment.

"At least we're positive that that craft belonged to the snake. The head sent it there. The body took it the rest of the way for the attack."

"It seems true enough." Andante nodded. "There's a good possibility that they've all been infected by the head."

"Which we now have the ability to find." Allegro chuckled softly. Andante blinked.

"You planted the homing tracer?" Allegro nodded.

"Energy based. It won't show up on medical scans, just like you said it wouldn't. Its life is a week. If our very tattered and stupid friend goes off in an odd place, we'll follow. And there's a good chance that once they run a check on just who that craft belonged to, they'll go to the head." Andante nodded, allowing himself a small grin.

His greatest achievement, the energy homing tracer melded seamlessly with a reploid's systems floating about in its body's bloodstream. Because of this, it couldn't be removed or even found, and for ultimate security, it disintegrated in a week.

"So now we wait then." Andante said calmly. "To tell you the truth, after that sneak attack the maverick pulled on us, we could use a rest." Andante blinked. "What did the fiery haired one say his name was?"

"Wycost." Allegro spat out. Andante rolled the name over his tongue.

"Wycost is truly an odd name."

"No more quirky than our own, be they correct nonetheless." 

"Names don't matter anymore for him. He went maverick. Another martyr to the snake's mission of evil."

"Yes." Andante sighed. "Even so, I feel sorry for him."

"Why?"

"We were able to escape his fate. He was not as lucky. In that respect, I feel that we owe him something."

"All right." Allegro harrumphed. "If I don't see him walking around spreading more of the infection, I'll spare his life." Andante folded his arms.

"The wild haired Hunter was barely able to stop him, and his abilities rival our own." Andante closed his eyes. "I think that if we were to meet him, it would be US that would be pleading to have their lives spared."

Allegro and Andante sat in silence on that comment.

Outside, the wind gently cascaded the sand back and forth.

Silence was the ruler of this domain.

"I never thought I'd see him again." Bastion whispered, as he lay on one of Hazil's Medical beds. Bristol was by his side, while Hazil ran a scan of his systems. Finally, Hazil walked over to him. His face was haggard as he looked at Bastion.

"So, Wycost was in that maverick mothership." 

"It's gotta be the Maverick Virus…" Bastion wheezed, still weak. Hazil put a hand on his chest, shaking his head.

"Sorry, Bastion. For the time being, doctor's orders stand. Lay quiet and don't move. Not unless you want to worsen your already ragged condition." Bastion groaned, falling back to his limp posture.

"He was just unstoppable, Hazil. Unstoppable." Bastion gulped. "Dodged all my shots, and when he wasn't firing plasma shots at me, he was pounding my face into mush." Bastion's right arm twitched, still fried from the fight. "The Maverick Virus has grown stronger…if it was able to take over his will." Hazil frowned.

"We're opening up the same dark can of worms that we did before, you know. There will be more questions brought to bear. We could be put under scrutiny." Hazil shook his head. "A lie, even for the best intentions is still a lie. And we upheld one at the end of the Fifth Uprising to protect certain individuals. Namely our rediscovered friend Wycost here…and Zero." 

Hazil looked over the completed scan.

"You want the bad news, or the devastating news first?" Bastion chortled a bit at Hazil's joke.

"You still find time to joke. Just lay it all out on the table." Hazil ran a hand through his hair.

"All right. One: Wycost nailed you pretty good. It'll take me a day just to get you back in fighting condition. And even then, there's one thing you won't have after this:Your Powerstorm Armor." Bastion fought back the tears on hearing that.

But his left hand still clenched up into a fist. 

His beloved Powerstorm Wings…

Gone, forever. Of course, Wycost was also not in the best of shape.

"How's our semi-green friend doing?" Bastion managed to eke out in a semi-understandable voice. Hazil shook his head.

"If I didn't know Wycost as well as you did, I would say that he went maverick of his own accord. Know why?" Bastion frowned.

"Why?" Hazil shook his head.

"I can't detect the virus on any of my scanners. For all purposes, it's like it vanished…or it was never there." Bastion shook his head.

"That isn't right…I KNOW he's infected! Even his armor has turned complete black…Wycost told me before that the jagged black line down his right arm was the only momento of his infection. He deleted it once with his willpower, and later helped X to do the same. It was gone from his systems when he joined the Hunters…your scans prove that. No…this infection is something he got after leaving us."

Bastion suddenly felt his vision blur, and a sudden spell of dizziness overcome him. Hazil was at his side, scanning him.

"Bastion, I suggest you try and get some sleep now. Your body is crying for it." Bastion tried to keep his heavy lids open, and finally managed to hold up his left hand.

"Keep…Wycost safe for me." Hazil nodded.

"I'll do my best, chum." 

Bastion finally slipped into unconsciousness with Hazil's reply. His hand fell back down to his side, and Hazil shook his head.

"This is not a fun time for any of us." Bristol shook her head.

"Bastion will live, right?" Her voice quivered a bit, and her concern was evident. Hazil looked at her, then shook his head.

"Relax, my British Bombshell. Your main squeeze will be just fine." Bristol frowned.

"You knew?" Hazil cackled, suddenly getting a wide grin on his face.

"I've seen many things in my long and unhappy life, Bristol. I've also seen love. Trust me, I'll keep your secret safe. I've forgotten some of the old ones I've kept." Hazil looked over, frowning again.

"I'll be spending most of my time working on Wycost there. My gut instinct is with Bastion's on this one. Wycost has to be infected." Hazil jerked his thumb at the prone armored, one armed figure. "That's why I have the shield keeping him away from the vitals of the bay, and anyone else. Until I can figure out just what form it's taken, though, I can't get to work removing it from his systems." Bristol let her eyes flicker to life.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Hazil grunted.

"Not with Wycost. However, I think you can help Bastion." Bristol's eyes flared even brighter.

"How?" Hazil shrugged.

"His reaction to the news that his Powerstorm wings are no more was pretty severe. He doesn't show his sadness, but I picked it up. A part of him is now missing with the loss of those. If you want to help him out, see if you can piece together some design schematics for a new pair. I'll install them if you can make them." Bristol nodded.

"That's a goal worth shooting for." Hazil sighed.

"Any positive goal nowadays is the best we can hope for."

Doan sat in his room, quietly thinking of Wycost's return. The bulk of his armor was gone, although he wore a minimum amount.

"He came back…and infected to boot." Doan muttered quietly. Rubbing his chin, Doan wondered if there was anything to be done. Sullenly, he knew the options were few.

"I knew Wycost from a long time ago…" Doan shook his head. "A lot's changed since then." 

He got up.

If there was one thing he could do, as one last momento to his friend from long ago…

"I'm coming, Wycost. We'll find out just where you got messed up."

"SCHEISSE!" Hazil grumbled, shutting off the latest scanner data on Wycost. Wiping his brow, he watched in angry disbelief.

"Knowing this guy's history, only the Virus would make him lash out like he did. But then how come I can't find it on any of my scans?" Hazil shook his head.

It didn't help that a majority of the Hunters on base would like to do nothing more than rip this one green ex-Hunter limb from limb already.

It didn't help matters that Wycost had taken down Bastion in the process.

Looking over, Hazil took a quick visual double check on his other patient, the regenerating Bastion in stasis.

He'd just managed to repair Wycost's shredded arm…minus the X-Buster, though. No sense in putting that back in until Wycost was uninfected.

"If he ever truly was…" Hazil muttered to himself. He shook off the visual image and frowned. 

"I won't doubt him. Wycost is too strong a person to do that. Even though his bedside manner is worse than mine, he doesn't go maverick on his own."

The Medical Bay door chittered for a moment, acknowledging the lock that Hazil had placed on it to prevent trigger happy Hunters from exacting a punishment on Wycost. Hazil lifted his head, frowning.

His hand reached for a stunner, as effective on reploids as humans.

"Who is it?" Hazil asked tentatively. A pause, then the sullen reply.

"It's Doan." Hazil's eyes went wide for a moment as he pulled up what he knew of the Hunter. 

No vendettas against the green Hunter. 

"Computer, open Medical Bay door, then reseal when Hunter Doan is in the room." Another chitter for a response.

The door finally slid open, and Doan entered. His face was grim as usual, as unsmiling as Wycost usually was.

"So, how can I help you, Doan?" Hazil asked, still keeping his stunner in hand. Doan noticed the device, his shifty eyes not missing a beat.

"I'm here to help you, if you'll let me."

Doan looked over his injured friend silently. The green and black hunter's armor was still charred in some places where Hazil hadn't cleaned it off. Memories flashed though the sullen reploid's mind...

Images of Wycost grinning like an idiot, of him beating back mavericks with only uncharged buster shots, of him saving his life. And there was another image that Doan could never forget - a photo on the news he had seen during the Fifth Uprising...

Of the first attack…on New York City.

Doan took off his glove, and placed it on the unhelmeted figure of Wycost. Hazil turned to him, obviously annoyed. 

"What do you think you're doing? Psychic healing? Look, buddy, just cause you say you want to help him -"

Hazil was interrupted by a sudden scream from the silent Doan. Images, thoughts, mindsets, memories... all came in an overwhelming tidal flood of mental pain..._Wycost... what have you done?_

"Wycost, we can't hold them back much longer!" Laz screamed. Ducking another burst of chaingun fire, Wycost raised his Buster and popped off another shot. 

His bright green armor already had a few dings and slashes in it from the debris that hurled itself upon them.

But his teeth were gritted, and he wasn't giving up so easily.

"Get the human members of our crew outta here NOW!" Wycost screamed. Laz shook his head.

"You sure?" Wycost turned his head and glared. This was not a time for his second in command to argue with him.

"Listen, Laz! This ain't a backstreet scuffle! THESE ARE FULL BLOWN INFECTED MAVERICKS AND WARMECHS! No matter how good we do, we're not Maverick Hunters. We're fraggin' City Patrol, designed for minor disputes. Any time the big boys show up in town, we're roast meat!" 

A dozen missiles from the towering Bee Bladers shot overhead, leaving giant jet streams of smoke exhaust. It hit another building, blowing the side out onto the street. Wycost's eyes boggled open as he saw the wall begin to fall from above, and with a quick burst of his next to useless lower level Dash Thruster systems, he jarred himself and Laz out of the way. 

However, Wycost could still hear the cries as the majority of his small and close knit Patrol was crushed under the heavy weight of debris.

Humans, bones and blood crushed together in a sickening pile of dead flesh.

Reploids, sparking and forever destroyed, their control chips smashed in by the heavy impact.

Wycost angrily shook away the tears from his blurry optics, trying to maintain focus.

"Ohmigodohmigodohmigod…" Laz repeated, his breathing short. Even though a reploid, Laz became hysterical, his eyes still facing the grisly scene behind them. Wycost's mind snapped, and he slapped Laz across the face.

"Laz! Get the Hell out of here NOW! I'll give you cover fire!" Laz still was catatonic and unresponsive, and Wycost screamed at him. "GO!"

Laz finally took off, running as fast as he could away from the warzone.

A sidewards targeted Bee Blader Warmech ended his life with a large burst of chaingun fire. 

Laz, another reploid victim of the mavericks, ceased to be as his body was torn limb from limb, chewed up and thrown to the ground as a steaming pile of wires, armor, coolant fluid, energy fluid, and charred synthskin.

That tore it.

Wycost finally snapped at that moment.

The mavericks had taken his entire Patrol to their deaths with a few blasts from their weapons.

And Wycost knew as well as anyone who was behind the major maverick movements…

Sigma.

"Damn you…DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!" Wycost leapt from behind the burning cover of a Police hovercar, finally charging at his foes with an intensity he'd never felt before.

He would make them pay.

A Ball De Voux got its face crushed in, and then Wycost kicked it into the fanblade of the nearest Blader.

That was two down as the Blader crashed to earth, grounded by its own unarmored rotor assembly.

Another Blader tried to nail Wycost with a burst of gunfire.

Wycost backflipped away from the blast, bouncing off a wall and into the air as he unleashed his charged X-Buster shot into the seeker unit of the craft.

That Blader exploded as it opened up its missile battery, and Wycost's shot made the explosives go up in smoke.

Wycost finally landed, his Buster prompted for another target.

He was on fire.

And he would destroy them all for what they'd done here today.

Just then, a large thunk from behind drew his attention. Wycost swiveled about, releasing the shot he'd been charging.

It flew through the air towards a large reploid that looked like a whale with a long horn on its snout.

The shot hit him in the chest…

And fizzled out of existence. 

The whale maverick laughed.

"Not so easy to scratch me hull job, ye landlubbing hardy. I be Nitro Narhwal, one of Sigma's Maverick Generals. And you be messing with the power of Titanitefloalloy!" Wycost's eyes still full of fire, also became filled with despair at that moment.

"Oh, Goddamn you…" Wycost muttered.

At that moment, another Bee blader behind him managed to hit in full on in the back with a concussion missile.

Wycost fell to the ground, his armor cracked, his helmet smashed in, his control chip cover shattered.

He had lost.

He could see Nitro Narwhal's giant feet come closer to him, and then the low chuckle of the maverick general came to his ears.

"Oh, we have a fighter here, we do! Lord Sigma would certainly appreciate a new recruit now." 

Wycost tried to get up, to fight.

But in the end, Nitro Narhwal kicked him onto his back, grinning evilly as he extended his hand to Wycost's head.

Removing the decimated helmet, Nitro's fingers suddenly became surrounded by a blackness.

His fingers jammed hard into Wycost's head, breaking through the synthskin and almost into the control chip.

A moment later, Wycost's entire head flared into a painful fire…

Not one with orange and red tendrils…

But black, and ominous, and menacing ones.

It pulsed with a life of its own, and the outside world faded from Wycost's view as he suddenly found himself inside his mind, facing a floating black mass of wires and moaning faces.

DESTROY. INFECT. SURVIVE. DESTROY. INFECT. SURVIVE.

Wycost's mind screamed, for the voices of the blackness turned against him. Screaming at him, they drowned out his every thought, his every memory…

Ever part of him suddenly became drowned out by it.

But one last thought raced across his mind.

The Maverick Virus…

I've been infected by the Maverick Virus…

Doan's screams echoed across the room, as his hand twitched over Wycost's head. Hazil shook his head again, charging at the howling Hunter in an attempt to stop whatever was happening. 

Then a flash of recognition came into his eyes.

"Doan…Doan, you're using REVENANT…" Hazil shook his head angrily.

"Damnit, you fool! It's too dangerous to do that! Wycost might infect YOU!"

Hazil barreled at Doan, trying to jar him loose from the mindlink.

A giant shock blasted him back. Hazil shook his head.

"Good gravy…I can't pull him out of it." Hazil growled, finally slamming a comm button on the desk.

"X and Zero! REPORT TO THE MEDICAL BAY IMMEDIATELY!"

The images never stopped coming.

Wycost, tearing himself apart to destroy his infection in the underground lair of Sigma.

Strobe Stallion, his recognition of the maverick turned Hunter.

Bastion, eyes filled with astonishment, wonder, and mistrust.

The mistrust vanishing, being replaced by sympathy.

Sigma being finally defeated in the Fifth Uprising by Zero.

Zero and X facing the virus together.

The year after…

Everyone else's building mistrust of the odd Hunter who had arrived in mystery, and remained in such.

And then…flashbacks of himself, Doan.

Doan and Wycost, passing each other in the halls. Wycost's sidewards glances to the gray and disgruntled Hunter, brief flashes of recognition from a time long ago.

_He remembers, _Doan thought feverishly as the wave continued to strike him.

Wycost leaving the Hunters in angry disgrace.

Wycost joining…URFAWP?

Another reploid, slowly coaxing Wycost from his outer shell of gruffishness.

Isaiah…

A promise made.

A mission long trained for.

A mission of peace.

Calcutta, India…

A jarring figure.

Dark.

Evil.

HIM.

"How long now, Wycost?" Isaiah asked again. Wycost grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"The transport still has another two hours left to go, Isaiah. We've barely cleared the Mideast." Isaiah grinned.

"Yeah, yeah. I just still can't believe we're finally on our way again." Wycost shrugged.

"Remember the promise now." Isaiah gave him a half smile.

"How could I forget?" Isaiah looked forward. "We still got a long way to go yet." Wycost nodded.

"Long roads lead to bigger places."

Just then, the entire airship jarred from side to side as if it had hit turbulence, and then straightened itself out. Wycost frowned.

"That felt odd." Something else felt odd as well to Wycost's senses.

He couldn't see it.

But there was something distinctly ominous about this quirky sixth sense that had him worried. Wycost couldn't stop his hand from clenching onto the armrest of his seat, and even Isaiah looked down in surprise.

"Woah, hold up there, Wycost. Its just turbulence!" Wycost glared, flipping up his glasses.

"No…it's something I've felt before. And the last time I did…"

Wycost's hands slammed into the armrests as the conclusion hit him full on. His eyes shot wide open, and he leapt out of his seat like it was on fire. His right hand vanished, replaced in an instant by a powerful Buster, gleaming in intensity. It began to charge up…

An action Wycost hadn't done in weeks. Isaiah's eyes boggled open as he cringed away from the weapon of war.

"Wycost, what the heck do you think you're doing?!" Isaiah stammered. Wycost glanced down to his friend and glared, baring teeth.

"Someone else is on board, Isaiah. Someone the Hunters thought had died out long ago…"

"Someone who gives you salutations." 

Wycost swiveled his head, his eyes narrowed.

He knew that voice.

"YOU…" Wycost growled.

The figure finally stepped out of the shadows.

It was covered by a thick brown coat, hiding all its features.

But its eyes still glowed a bright red from the darkness of the hood.

"Hello again, Wycost." The figure cackled. "We've missed you…" a hand lifted itself up, slipping out of the coat sleeve. The hand was thin and sinewy, metallic and with razor sharp claws.

"The feeling isn't mutual." Wycost glared, his Buster whining even louder with its charge. The figure cackled.

"Oh, we knew you would say such a thing." Wycost shook his head.

"We? You speak as if…" Wycost drew in a ragged breath, as the truth suddenly dawned on him. "No…"

"Yes." The cloaked figure suddenly lunged forward at Wycost, snarling angrily. 

Wycost let his blast loose.

Metallic claw met plasma superburst, and the shot fizzled out of existence. Wycost followed closely with a powerful left hook, hoping to knock the dangerous figure away.

But the figure was as crafty as he was insane, and he came underneath the blow to slash a claw across Wycost's body.

Wycost howled in pain, leaping back. Panting heavily, he suddenly knew he was outgunned in his current state. Wycost threw his arm into the air, not letting his eyes leave the nimble warrior.

"All of you! Get out of here NOW!" Wycost couldn't help but think of the irony of that statement. The last time he had said something like that, he'd been the only one to survive.

This time would be different.

But the cloaked figure cackled loudly.

"Oh, We don't think so, Wycost!" The hooded head's eyes glowed even brighter as its arms raised into the air, and energy began to surround it. Wycost clamped his teeth angrily at the new find, and he raised his Buster again.

A sudden flash enveloped the entire craft's interior…a dark flash.

Wycost suddenly found he couldn't move.

He was frozen…and worse, the ragged cackle of his foe seemed to echo even more.

"Oh my, yes. Now everyone in this hovertransport is under our control…" The clawed hand clenched into a fist. "Wycost, we think it should be a priority for you to activate your battle armor now." The red eyes flashed again, and Wycost suddenly felt a chillind dark hand reach into his mind, take control of his body.

"Damn…You…" Wycost grunted. Tears came to his eyes, as it dawned on him that once more, he had failed to stop them all.

A command he had not given echoed in his mind, and then Wycost felt the shimmering energies surround him. His internal teleportation system brought up the internally stored data for the green armor that was Wycost's.

Wycost knew that he was now in his armor. The figure looked at him again, once more flashing the bright red eyes of hatred.

"Now…we want you to prove your loyalty to us. Destroy your friend over there." Wycost suddenly found himself straining against the invisible bonds, with a force he had never used before.

"NOOO!!!" Wycost screamed, forcing himself to lower his Buster, and shift it back into a hand. 

The cloaked figure's eyes flashed an even brighter red, and it stomped towards Wycost. Finally, its hot breath was on Wycost's face.

"We…Said…Kill him." 

That tore it. Wycost lost all control over his functions, once more finding himself an unwilling witness to the tortures of…

Isaiah's eyes were wide, and he shook with fear, trembling in his seat.

"Wycost…who is he? What are you doing?" Wycost could only watch in utter horror, as his foe forced him to raise his Buster.

His hated Buster.

Isaiah went quickly, vanishing in a ball of white hot plasma, leaving only a charred smudge on his seat.

Wycost had killed his friend.

No matter who had forced him to do it…

Wycost had obliterated Isaiah.

The enemy's laughs were loud.

Wycost barely heard it.

His mind was filling up with his rage.

Rage against war.

Rage against the enemies who would never die.

Rage against himself.

The connection finally completed itself, and the electrical discharge field surrounding Doan and Wycost crackled out of existence. Doan's screams faded away into a low moan…

Doan collapsed on the floor as Hazil rushed to the fallen reploid. "FRACK IT!! WHAT THE HELL?!"

Doan's optics whirred back to life, blinking slowly at the grouchy figure of Hazil above him. X and Zero weren't too far behind the Medical Reploid, all of them looking on in concern. Zero finally spoke.

"You got a reason for pulling that Mind-reading trick on our Maverick friend?" Doan wheezed, still trying to get his bearings.

__

I am.

I am Doan…

I am a Maverick Hunter.

Doan shook his head, almost in tears.

"I knew…Wycost, from a long time ago. Before we were Hunters…we were just reploids." X grunted, his arms folded.

"So, you wanted to remember the good old days?" Doan gritted his teeth, glaring at X. His fist balled up and he pounded it on the floor.

"I know more about Wycost now than you could ever hope to, X. Just thank Light he didn't give you the ability to rip memories." Doan covered his eyes with a hand, feeling faint.

"I did…learn something, though. Wycost…is infected. An old foe has returned…and Wycost failed to stop him." Doan shook his head.

"I saw…what the Virus looks like." Doan took in a deep breath. "It is a terrible thing…and Wycost overcame it once. It is stronger now…more than ever, it is stronger." Doan looked up to Hazil.

"As long as he's in stasis, you can't treat him. He has to be awake for the Virus to surface. And I know where Wycost has been in his absence from us." Zero nodded.

"Where was that?" Doan finally got up, and put his glove back on.

He was back in control again, and as depressed as ever.

"A place known as URFAWP."

Silence hung in the room.

Finally, Zero's mouth began to emit a hissing noise like a snake, and finally ended in a curt curse.

"URFAWP…" X also was stunned.

"It seems the hope for the future has turned evil. But just how high up does the conspiracy go?"

The questions didn't have any answers.

Doan couldn't look that deep into Wycost.

But X finally spoke up.

"Gentlemen, we've taken a return to insanity." Just then, Hazil's comm chittered. Hazil slapped it.

"Speak, or forever hold your peace."

"I do." Came Cain's short reply. "I know X and Zero are with you…there's something I just found out."

More silence.

"That transport…it came from URFAWP." Zero hit his own comm to speak with him.

"Boss, it gets worse. Wycost WAS IN URFAWP when he got infected." Zero bit his tongue, for a very chilling possibility came to mind. "And he didn't get a weak version…this time, Wycost got hit with a strong mutated strain." Zero shook his head.

"I think…I think Sigma managed to survive."


	13. Misguided Madness

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER ELEVEN: MISGUIDED MADNESS

"Excuse me? What did you say?" Cristoph raised his glasses, still comfortably surrounded in his seat of the GDC. 

X didn't waver from his stance on the floor, all eyes focused on him.

Some were sympathetic.

Others disbelieving.

Others still were filled with mistrust and hatred.

Like Cristoph's. But X could see past his mask. 

The mask that glimmered brightly in all its fallacy, as Cristoph played up the elder jolly man act to the full extent anyone could.

"I will repeat myself, Councilman Cristoph." X said calmly. "I SAID…that the Maverick Virus has returned."

The light buzz before turned much worse with X's confirmation.

Cristoph chuckled, shaking his head.

"X, I find it difficult to believe that. The Hunters themselves have confirmed that a little more than a year ago, in the final hours of the Fifth Maverick Uprising, a duel was held between Sigma and yourself and Zero. You defeated him then, and because he had no means of escape, he could not possibly continue to exist. Further evidence in the diaries of Cain labs and Hunter main referendum shows that wherever the Maverick Virus exists, there is always Sigma, in some form or another."

Cristoph settled back in his chair and put his glasses back on.

"We are very disbelieving about this kind of thing, X. For all we know, this could be nothing more than a ploy, an attempt by you, and I suspect others in your organization from stopping the deadline." Cristoph leaned forward, smiling jovially over his sinister intents.

"Am I correct in that belief, X?" 

X struggled to hold his emotions, his anger against this bullheaded man in check. He opted to remove his helmet and take out the stress by means of expelling heat from his head.

"No, Cristoph. This is no ploy. This is the real thing." 

Silence hung in the room. All eyes suddenly identified the rage that passed between the eyes of Cristoph and Commander X.

"Do you have any evidence to the contrary?"

X thought long and hard. The only evidence they held that proved the Virus had returned was not only held deep within the mind of the mind of the person who had been infected, Wycost--but it also cast a very sour note on the Hunters that Cristoph would play out fully.

Even an ex-Hunter is a Hunter to a biased human's eyes. Wycost would be no different.

"I have no evidence that the Hunters would care to bring to light at this time." X finally said softly, admitting defeat through gritted teeth.

Cristoph smiled, another victory under his belt.

"Well in that case Commander X, the Ultimatum still stands. The Hunters have 16 more days to decide which 3 Units shall remain."

X didn't respond to Cristoph's final comment.

He snapped his helmet back over his wavy black hair and turned around from Cristoph, his back turned to the man whom he despised.

And then X vanished in a bolt of blue fire, flying up through the domed ceiling above.

"Well, I think that takes care of that." Hazil said placidly. Running his fingers over his Medical Console, he nodded to Zero and Doan standing nearby.

Doan hadn't left the room since his Revenant scan of Wycost. It made Hazil ponder questions, but he had more important things to do.

"Time to wake up Bastion. Stand back everyone…" Hazil hit the final command on his console, activating the de-stasis procedures on the bed that Bastion lay on.

Bastion's eyes fluttered open, slowly at first and then with greater acuity. 

He frowned at first, then set his jaw and pulled himself from the cot.

"How long was I out?" Hazil smirked.

"Ten years."

"WHAT?!"

"Just kidding, bub. Three days, thereabouts. It took me a bit longer to fix up your war wounds, especially when I was working on Wycost as well."

"Wycost…" Bastion flexed his hand, slowly feeling his arms move after his long sleep. He frowned and looked over to Wycost, fully repaired, but still lying dormant.

"Why didn't you wake him up?" Hazil folded his arms and set his jaw.

"It's kind of against company policy to pull a reploid out of stasis when he's still maverick." Bastion's eyes flashed brightly for a moment, then dimmed to their normal stance.

"How bad is it?" Doan looked up from his place beside his sleeping friend and frowned.

"VERY." Bastion blinked, finally noticing the newcomer.

"Doan? You're with the 17th…what are you doing here?" Doan didn't respond, so Zero took over.

"Apparently, these two tender turkeys knew each other from long ago." Doan didn't answer to that either. Zero brushed his hair back and frowned.

"They're almost cast from the same mold…Both of them don't talk much, and have a sucky bedside manner." Doan spoke up softly at the comment.

"But he's infected. And I'm not." Hazil waved his finger in the air.

"True, that." Hazil looked over to Bastion. "You gonna be all right for a while? Bastion blinked, then nodded slowly.

"I want to know everything involving how Wycost got messed up with all of this. Where that ship came from, and what it was doing in Calcutta, India." Zero motioned to the Medical Bay's exit door.

"Follow me. I'll grab ya some java, and give the whole kitn' kaboodle." Bastion nodded.

His right hand reached behind his back, silently acknowledging the empty spot below his saber recharger ports.

The spot that once held his Powerstorm Armor. Bastion's frown bloomed.

"Yeah…I'm coming, Zero."

Zero and Bastion quietly slipped out of the Medical Bay, leaving Hazil and Doan to look after Wycost. 

Hazil sighed, looking at the unmoving form of Doan.

"How long were you planning to stay there again?" Doan turned, his face a mask of grimness.

"Until he wakes up." Hazil shook his head.

"Sorry, I ain't waking him up."

"Until you do, you won't be able to identify where…or what form for that matter, the Maverick Virus has taken in him." Hazil glared, showing his teeth.

"I still don't like it one bit, you know." Doan shrugged.

"You're the doc. It's your choice in the end." Hazil rapped his fingers on his other arm.

"Don't remind me."

Just then, Hazil's doorbell rang. The chime, specifically which identified someone was standing outside.

"Who's there?" 

"Hazil, it's me." It was Bristol. Hazil acknowledged it and let the door to his Medical Bay open up."

Bristol walked in, looking a bit fatigued than before. But her right hand held a datapad…

"I've got some preliminary sketches…care to take a look?" Bastion said, her voice ragged. Hazil shrugged.

"Been a while. But sure…let's have a peek at Bastion's next generation Flight Armor." Hazil gently grabbed onto the datapad and downloaded the files onto his main desk console. Sitting down in the chair, Hazil brought up the stats.

He had to whistle loudly at what he saw.

"Geez…this is going beyond and above. 'Angel's Advantage' is what you chose to call this, eh?" Bristol nodded, leaning on her elbows as she looked at the schematics, slowly rotating on the screen in a 3-D model. Hazil looked at some of the stats.

"You know, a lot of this is almost conceptual design…untested." Bristol shrugged.

"You said you could build it, Hazil." Hazil blinked his eyes.

"I said I was good. This implies I'm a genius…" Hazil zoomed in on the wingtips.

"Bipolar Electrical Discharge Blasters…Thermodynamic friction rechargers, AND ELECTROMAGNETIC REPULSION ACTUATORS…all in the same damn package." Hazil slapped himself in the face.

"Bristol, this is genius here. We're talking YEARS beyond the previous set. I doubt even X's maker Light ever thought up something this intense." Hazil looked over at Bristol in a cross between wonder and admiration. "Have you ever done this kind of thing before?"

Bristol frowned, suddenly encountering the same dead space in her memory as before.

"Hazil…I don't know." Hazil groaned, mentally kicking himself.

"Ahh, geez. Forgive an old ailing reploid." Bristol shrugged.

"It's all right. Bastion helped me get over it." That name brought the glimmer back into Bristol's eyes. Hazil noticed it as well, rubbing his chin with a wistful grin.

"Aah, love. Bristol, I thank you much for the designs here. Now if you'll shuffle off, I'll see what I can do about making this myth a reality." Bristol shook her head back, letting her long blonde hair streaked with its rosy tint push off from her shoulders.

"No arguments there, luv. I think I'll go see about getting some refreshment in me reactor." 

"If you're heading over to the Cafeteria, you'll find Bastion and Zero talking business." Bristol frowned.

"I'm not too fond of having him risking his life, Hazil." Hazil shrugged, frowning.

"It's what he came here to do. Risk his life to save the necks of everyone else on the earth." Bristol grabbed her saber, adjusting the beam for a small length.

Lighting the hot pink blade up, she glared at Hazil.

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep protecting him." Hazil chuckled.

"Well, you certainly have the hidden talents to do so. Just remember…you aren't a sanctioned Hunter." Bristol snorted.

"Sanctioned or not, I could mop the floor with half the blokes in this place." Hazil winced, rubbing the back of his head.

"No kidding. Now get outta here…I still got three projects on my hands." Bristol frowned.

"Three?" Hazil raised the correct numbers of fingers, deadpanning the statement.

"THREEEE…One involving Wycost's cure, two is Bastion's new Wings, and three is another project I have in the works for our good friend X." Bristol folded her arms.

"Are you going to tell me about it?" Hazil clacked his tongue.

"I don't think it'd be in our best interests. Let's just say that there will still be some protectors of the world, even if the GDC carries through on its threat."

Bristol sighed.

"You are a walking question mark."

"And you're one that throws people across the room." Hazil snorted. "Now get outta here…you're jangling my nerves." 

Bristol quietly scampered out of the Medical Bay, in much better spirits than before.

Hazil annoyedly turned back to Doan, putting his arms at his sides.

"Are you ever going to…"

"NO."

Wycost was still fighting.

Inside his body, beyond the ability of scanners to pick up, his sleeping mind nonetheless tried to overcome the virus.

It had mutated from before. No longer was it just a mass of blackness, a jumbling of wires and moaning faces.

Of course, those were all subconscious images made by Wycost's mind to try and identify the Virus.

It was different now, though. It was more than wires…it was light.

Dark light. A light that drew in all others, pulsating out a horrendous sound.

The Virus was more. It had many forms now…Wycost could hear that thought coming from its sinister insides.

On the astral plane of diminished mental existence, a gigantic whiteness, Wycost stumbled along.

He couldn't run. He couldn't dash. His boots were scarred and chipped, the fuel lines severed. His energy was severely diminished.

But he ran…He ran because that was what he had always done.

He ran, and then he turned around and fired. That was his strategy.

It usually worked. It was different now.

He was afraid to fire his Buster.

The Virus had destroyed his courage, his hope…The Virus had mutated into Wycost's nightmare.

Every time he turned to fire at it, to fight back with all his mind's might, the Virus transfigured itself into new forms.

Images of his friends.

Of Bastion.

Of Isaiah.

Of Doan.

The three individuals from his life.

Doan, and his past.

Bastion, and his Hunter days.

Isaiah…his shortlived career in URFAWP, and the final confrontation that brought him to his knees.

Wycost groaned, barely dragging his feet along. He was almost crawling, for he was so tired.

And the Virus spoke.

Taunted him. Beckoned him into the darkness.

**Don't fight me, Wycost…It is a futile effort. Give into my power.**

"Never…" Wycost wheezed, trying feebly to pick up his pace. That damnable voice had been hounding at him for…days now?

Wycost couldn't tell. All sense of time had vanished.

All he could see was the here.

The eternity of silence, and a foe that he could not defeat.

Wycost felt an emptiness inside, and he knew what it was saying.

_How long can you hold out, Wycost? How long?_

Wycost knew it wasn't for much longer.

He was losing.

Perhaps he deserved to lose. His life had done nothing.

All his life, he had worn his armor.

All his life, he had kept his Buster.

All his life…he had taken life.

**And that makes you no better than me now, doesn't it?**

"Shut up…" Wycost muttered. He turned around, glaring at the black shimmering mass behind him. "SHUT UP!"

The mass chuckled, long and echoing in the infinity realm.

**I can wait for as long as I need to, Wycost. I can hold out. You are weak…you will crumble.**

Wycost fell to his knees again, feeling weak again.

What shook him the most is that he knew the Virus was right.

He would lose.

Wycost slumped onto the unseen floor of his mind, his inner consciousness at last succumbing to the doubts.

For the first time in his life, Wycost cried.

He cried long and hard.

And then he passed out.

Far under the ground of the Siberian surface, Pharaoh Man sat in front of a computer console, steadily watching the maintenance data scroll across the screen.

"Sewage drainage system: Normal. Electrical wiring and generators: Normal. Incoming call: Nor…"

Pharaoh Man caught himself, frowning at the new data stream that had popped up on his screen. "Incoming call?" He reached over to the castle comm system and flipped the switch.

"Doctor Cossack, sir. Please report to the main control room at once."

Cossack rolled into the main chamber where Pharaoh was located on a small electric scooter.

"Don't bother, Phare. I also picked up the incoming transmission." Pharaoh nodded his head.

"Shall I trace its source?" Cossack glinted his eyes through his glasses and grinned.

"Of course." Pharaoh Man's gloved metallic fingers danced across the keys, his optics zooming in on the screen.

"Herm…Tokyo, Japan. Seems to be the Hunter Base from the looks of it." Cossack grinned.

"Aah, that would be our friend X. It has been a few days…" Cossack nodded his head. "Well, patch it through!" Pharaoh hit one final key, acknowledging with a grunt.

"Commlink open."

The image that appeared on the quasi large screen in front of them wasn't X, though.

It was an image of a gray haired scowling individual. Cossack frowned.

"Da? How may I help you?" The person on the other end of the line grunted.

"I take it you're Cossack…" The person looked over to the garbed robot beside the Russian Scientist. "And you…you gotta be Pharaoh Man."

"That is correct." Pharaoh Man stated flatly. Cossack leaned down, staring into the face.

"Who are you?" The person in MHHQ raised his eyebrows.

"What, X didn't tell you about me? I'm Hazil…the guy designing your 'bot's upgrades." Cossack remembered the name and nodded.

"Aah, yes. I was wondering when you would be calling. So, when will you be dropping by?" Hazil coughed loudly, looking over his shoulder.

"Probably not today. But I'll show up when I can…without warning. I have all the stats on your best 'bots that X wanted to upgrade for active duty, it's just I'm a wee bit busy trying to figure out how to save one of our own at the moment…not to mention I've been given the impossible task of designing a pair of Next Generation Flight Wings." Cossack chuckled.

"You keep busy then." Hazil scratched his head.

"VERY. And the most incredible part is that no one else knows I'm doing this for you." Cossack nodded.

"Your GDC would not smile on this at all, I think." Hazil sighed.

"No kidding." Hazil looked up. "I gotta break off the commlink…any longer and our systems might decide to trace the call. Nowheres in Siberia raises some eyebrows." Cossack raised a finger.

"One last question: How do you keep so active in your old age?" Hazil grinned from ear to ear as he shook his finger back and forth like a pendulum.

"Simple, my great robotics genius: I'm a reploid." Hazil ended the connection, and darkness filled the screen.

Cossack stood stunned for a few moments, and then Pharaoh turned to face him.

"If company's coming, I should have Dust Man and Toad Man really clean up this place." Cossack raised an unsteady hand and patted Pharaoh Man on the shoulder.

"You do that Phare…you do that." Cossack turned about, stumbling back to the elevator to his lounge.

"I think I'll just go take a nap for a while…" Cossack uttered softly. Pharaoh Man nodded, letting a smile cross his face.

"You do that, Doctor." Pharaoh Man imitated Cossack, even using the same words. He suddenly shifted his glare into a glance of consternation, wondering why he had smiled.

He shook his head.

"Perhaps the Doctor is right…" Pharaoh Man left the smile reassert itself.

"Perhaps I am becoming more human."

"Overview of all current data…" Bastion said, barely holding his rage in check. Zero sighed, acknowledging the sour mood of his companion.

"All right, Bastion. I'll tell you again." Zero brought up his datapad for a refresher on his info, then looked into Bastion's eyes.

They were burning a bit brighter than usual. The Desert Hunter was angered…

Either from the loss of his wings, or Wycost's return…or more than likely, both.

"When Wycost left the Hunters, we lose all trace of his whereabouts. When we see him next in Calcutta, India, he's on a transport registered to URFAWP, under the control of one J.K. Horn, a retired weapons designer and engineer." Bastion scratched his head.

"I'm sure I've heard that name before…" Zero snorted.

"More than likely one of his propaganda commercials." Bastion shook his head.

"Afraid not…even before that. Before I joined the Hunters, I think I had heard of him. I just can't pin it down." Zero leaned back into his seat, propping his chin on a hand.

"Just what did you do before you joined us? Your reports weren't too clear about last place of work. All you put down was 'Mideastern Affairs." Zero smiled just a bit, hoping to eke an answer.

Bastion shook his head, smiling back with the same icy eyes.

"Sorry, Zero. But I don't think even you need to know what I did before I joined you…its not too pretty a history." Zero harrumphed.

"Can't be any worse than mine…" Bastion nodded.

"Perhaps…perhaps not. In any case, we've both moved past it." Bastion raised a hand. "So where were we?"

"We don't know what Wycost was up to, but somehow he made it onto an URFAWP transport. The first option is that he was infected someplace else, and only hopped on board to spread it…" Bastion grimaced at the thought.

He didn't like to think Wycost would rationally do that kind of thing.

"That option is out of whack, limeys." 

Bastion and Zero swiveled in their seats to face an approaching Bristol, frowning slightly. 

"How so, Bristol?" Bristol flopped down besides Bastion, sighing.

"I caught up to him as he was just walking out the doors. The stupid bugger hadn't even bothered to consider his options after he resigned…" Bristol snorted. "I suggested URFAWP, if he was looking for a change of pace. I believe that he joined up."

Zero let the comment fall to the floor, then he set his jaw.

"That opens up a whole new can of worms there." Bastion gritted his teeth.

"That means the problem is in URFAWP itself." Zero nodded.

"It would seem so." Bastion picked himself up.

"Then there's only one course of action left to us." Bristol looked at Zero, his eyes once more blazing. "We go and talk to URFAWP's founder, Horn. If he's hiding something, he won't be for much longer. I think it's time we got some definitive answers about how URFAWP works…" 

Zero stood up.

"I'm coming with you then." Bristol heckled, whipping her saber off of her arm.

"Count me in too, luv." Bastion frowned.

"Not this time, Bristol. Before, I knew what to expect. I'd rather have you stay here." 

"But…"

"No buts, Bristol." Bastion said pleadingly. "For once trust my judgement on this." Bristol set her jaw, staring at Bastion for a long moment.

Finally, she succumbed.

"Very well…" She whipped her head up to look at Zero. "YOU…You make sure nothing happens to him now then." Zero cocked his right hand into a gun and winked.

"No problem. That's why I'm the best." 

Bastion and Zero walked out of the cafeteria, making tracks to Hazil's lair for some field repair gear, namely a charged Sub-Tank for each of them.

They walked in silence for a time, then Zero turned to face Bastion.

"Bristol seems to worry about you a lot, Bastion." Bastion nodded.

"She does do that." Zero continued on, prodding further into his doubts.

"Almost as if she was afraid to lose you…as if she loved you."

Bastion stopped midstep.

He turned and faced Zero with cold eyes, chewing on his lower lip. Finally he nodded.

"You are observant." Bastion and Zero continued to plod along down the hall, the incident over with. 

"I have some experience with it." Zero muttered, bringing back sad memories of long ago. Bastion harrumphed.

"Really? The Crimson Hunter in love?" Zero bared his lower teeth.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Bastion shrugged.

"Maybe. Give me a name."

"You want a name?" Zero said softly. His eyes shut for a moment, and he clenched his right fist for a moment. Finally he opened his eyes. "Fine. She was known as Iris."

"Iris…" Bastion let it roll off his tongue. Then it hit him.

"Woah…you mean the one from the Repliforce that…"

"That I killed. YES." Zero muttered softly. He let his other hand clench up as well.

"It was my job, you understand. I was a Hunter, and we considered the Repliforce mavericks. The events on the Final Weapon showed we were right in our guess…Sigma was behind it again."

"Still, Zero…" Bastion muttered. "You gotta admit that's pretty screwed up."

"I think we're all screwed up in some way or another." Zero finished. 

Bastion thought it over.

"Yeah…you're right there." Bastion motioned to the wall. "We're here." Zero shook his head, trying to shake off the bittersweet memories of Iris.

"Good. I think if we'd kept up this little talk any longer, I might have blown a fuse."

"You're a reploid: You don't have fuses."

"Bastion, do you have arms?"

"Yes…"

"If you want to keep them, I suggest you shut up now."

"I'm shutting up." 

"Huh?" Allegro checked his bleeping monitor.

He frowned.

"Andante man, get up. Our wild haired Hunter's on the move…" Andante pulled himself up from the easy chair in a smooth motion.

"Where to?" Andante asked, his eyes quietly brewing up for battle. Allegro checked a few figures, then voiced his guess.

"It seems like somewheres in the Caribbean to me." Andante folded his arms, running a self diagnostic.

"We're both repaired from our last major conflict. If our Hunter is going where we hope he is…"

"If he managed to trace where that ship came from, he'll more than likely be going to visit the snake's head right now."

"And when we follow him…"

"When we follow him, we put an end to this ONCE AND FOR ALL." Allegro growled.

"Activate your warp circuits and program them to follow our Hunter's energy tracer."

"Do I need you to tell me that?" Allegro spat out. "I'll see you on the other end of the loop, bro."

"No arguments there, Allegro." Andante muttered softly. "No arguments there."

Their desert abode's shield went down for just a moment, allowing enough time for them to warp out of it in bolts of transmuted fire.

The snake would pay…NOW.

"You sure this is the right place, Zero?" Bastion asked, adjusting his left shoulder applet. Zero nodded slowly, motioning to the giant mansion in the center of the Caribbean Island they had warped to. 

"No duh, bub. That's J.K. Horn's place...doubtful even we would have found it, save for our really big and expensive toys which track radio signals." Bastion nodded, checking his saber. 

"All right then. Our friend Horn has some explaining to do...especially involving why his transports to Calcutta were carrying mavericks...and my ex-Hunter Wycost with them." Zero bared his teeth. 

"I have a sneaky suspicion that Horn's been playing the world for fools...by God, if he's managed to resurrect Sigma, I'm gonna pound him into atoms." 

"Just chop his head off and suck down his vital fluids." Bastion chirped, walking up ahead. "That seems to make you a bit happier." The sun beat down on the island, not a cloud in the diamond blue sky above to stop its rays. A few palm trees here and there adorned the stone pathway, but other than that, it was an uneasy...and silent walk. Finally, Bastion reached the gate of the mansion's outer wall, and rang the doorbell beside it. It seemed a little out of place to him, on an island which was practically unfindable. But then, he knew nothing of Horn. He knew only that URFAWP was involved somehow with Wycost's condition...and the Maverick Virus. 

"Coming, coming!" A scratchy but amiable voice cried out from behind the gate. Hobbled footsteps danced across the sandstone walkways, and finally a figure approached the gate. Holding a tropical drink in his right hand, his eyes covered by a set of blue blockers, and dressed in shorts and a Hawaiian T-Shirt, the figure did indeed represent as Zero had said, 'A Florida Senior Schmuck.' But the figure frowned when he saw who was knocking on his door. 

"Aah, Zero. I see you have returned from the HQ to visit me once again. And who is this? A new friend?" Horn flashed a smile. Neither Hunter responded. Bastion's right hand went up to the back of his head, as if he was scratching an itch. In truth, he was making sure he could access a beam saber quickly, if need be. Horn frowned at the morose display. 

"Hmm...Not in a good mood, I see. Well, come on in then." Horn unlatched the gate entrance and silently walked back to his pool behind the giant house. Zero and Bastion followed. Zero spoke first, both Hunters standing up as horn settled back into his hammock. 

"Horn, we've come across some disturbing information most recently." Zero growled, making no mistake in showing Horn his attitude. "It doesn't do much to make you look innocent either." Horn yawned, batting away a mosquito that flew too close to his drink. 

"Oh, really? Just what would that happen to be now?" Bastion had had enough. This crazy old reploid was on his nerves long before...and this tore it. Bastion yanked Horn up from his hammock with one smooth motion, pulling the reploid to eye level. Horn's shades fell off and the URFAWP founder began to word a protest. 

"Not a word out of you, Horn." Bastion growled, his voice low in his throat. "I've had it up to here with your bull. A good friend of mine who was in your organization is half dead and infected…and you'd best come clean about Sigma and the Virus." Horn blinked. 

"Sigma? VIRUS?!" Horn shook his head. "I'm afraid that I don't have the foggiest notion about what you a..." Horn's robotic optic suddenly zoomed in on Bastion's face as Horn froze his sentence. Bastion suddenly felt like he was being examined. He didn't like it. Bastion threw Horn back into his hammock, spinning the reploid out of balance and making him land hard onto the patio. Horn climbed up to his feet, still examining Bastion in wonder. 

"You...you look familiar to me, Hunter...I'm almost sure that I've seen you somewhere be..." Suddenly, Horn's good eye bulged out in shock, and his fist clenched up. "Merciful Menoras..." That phrase echoed into Bastion, a remnant of a time long before his Hunter days...A time of darkness. Horn's shaky hand raised to point at Bastion, still glaring down on him. "You...YOU...You don't have your helmet on anymore, but I'd recognize those eyes anywhe..." Horn gasped for air, suddenly wheezing. "Jehovah preserve me...You've come to take me to my death!" 

Zero shook his head at Horn's startled speech, looking at Bastion for an answer. Bastion set his arms to his side and nodded, his eyes suddenly taking on a darker, more sinister glaze. 

"Well, well...So I finally meet one of the technological geniuses behind my enemy's forces." 

"Bastion, what the HELL are you two talking about?" Zero glared. Horn looked over at Zero, still shaking in fear. 

"Don't you GET IT, MAN?!" Horn was almost in tears now. "It's HIM! The Desert Fire..." Bastion nodded. "Yes...I'm Bastion. The Desert Fire." 

Silence reigned over the patio of Horn's secluded mansion. Only Horn's ragged breathing and the surf could be heard.

Zero finally ended it.

"All right…BASTION, WHAT THE HELL IS HE BLABBING ABOUT?!" Bastion guffawed, still glaring at Horn.

"A lot, Zero. His organization put Wycost in critical condition…but even before that, he made his living making weapons for the Israelis. Weapons which were used against me, and the others who I worked with." Zero shook his head, not believing what he was hearing.

"If his weapons were used against you…" Zero began to pale. "Geezus…"

"Oh, you can say it." Bastion chirped angrily. "I was built, born and raised in the Arabic Confederation, for the Islamic Jihad against the infidels of Israel." Bastion waved his hand. "Or so they said. In the end, I realized it for what it was; another pathetic war started over humanity's inability to play nice. But Horn here…" Bastion lit a saber, holding the purple blade in his right hand. "Horn's a different matter."

Zero stepped up to Bastion, his own blade menacingly lit, his eyes burning.

"Despite the past, we need him alive to talk."

"Talk about WHAT?!" Horn sputtered, raising his hand aloft. "I LEFT the military, fer chrissakes! As far as I'm concerned, you two just showed up out of the blue, waving your beam sabers about and scaring the living daylights outta me FOR NO GOOD REASON." 

Horn picked himself up, finally taking his glasses off. Bastion froze as he saw the unnatural optic. Horn nodded, his glare powerful.

"That's right, Hunter. Back in your glory days, you gave THIS to me." Bastion glared back, his grip tightening on his lit saber.

"Consider it payback for all my friends who were shot up by your gadgets."

"Why you…"

"ENOUGH!" Zero bellowed, finally stomping between the two old enemies. His eyes burned hotter than theirs combined as his long blond hair bounced onto his back.

"Here's what's gonna happen. Bastion, you're gonna put that saber back in your holster and BACK OFF. Horn, you're coming with us to the HQ in Tokyo for a run of sixty-four questions."

"The snake's head is not going anywhere." 

All eyes turned up in surprise to the new angered voice.

High above, a pair of figures stood out from the blazing sun, darkened and unseeable in the glare.

But their weapons were noted.

Both carried dark purple black beam staffs.

Finally, one leapt down, screaming a powerful war cry as he charged at Zero and Bastion.

When he landed, Bastion recognized him.

It was the same hotheaded pest who kept showing up on their missions and wreaking havoc.

"Stupid Hunters…" The reploid spat out, charging at Bastion with his staff. "We thank you for leading us to the snake's head. But you had best shuffle off now…Or pay the same price he will."

Bastion deflected the high swing cut from the staff, then whipped out his other saber, attaching them at the hilts and making his own double bladed weapon.

"The only place Horn is coming is back with us. We have some questions about why URFAWP's ship in India was carrying mavericks." Bastion grunted as he dueled with the other reploid, neither giving in in the slightest degree.

Zero had his hands full with the second reploid that had appeared, charging down with the same dedication, but much less fanfare.

He was however, a tad bit stronger, keeping Zero well on edge by keeping him on the defensive.

"You two are trouble, you know that?" Zero retorted, slamming a staff strike back at the taller reploid with his own single bladed beam saber. The tall one didn't smile, and he barely talked. He only growled back.

"Just fight, Hunter. Fight or get the Hell out of dodge. Your choice."

"This is just too pathetic." Horn finally yowled.

All eyes turned to face the crazed scientist reploid in front of his mansion's back door.

This time, he was chugging about what seemed to be a kind of energy rifle.

With unfeeling eyes, Horn popped off two shots.

They struck the Hunter's attackers, dispersing in a paralyzing electrical field that caused the reploids to scream out in pain, and then finally enter automatic stasis.

Zero didn't let his guard down for a moment, now facing Horn. 

"What's the deal, Horn?" Zero muttered slowly, his eyes not wavering from the barrel end of Horn's paralyzing blaster rifle.

Horn shrugged, dumping the device at his feet.

"It seemed like you two guys needed some help…" Horn stared back at Bastion, letting the disgust in his voice become apparent. "Even you, Desert Fire." Bastion slammed his saber hilts back into their recharger ports, flexing his gloved hands.

"Stuff it, Horn. So now what are you gonna do?" Horn sighed, putting his glasses back on.

"There's not much I can do. Obviously, there is something wrong with URFAWP…horribly wrong." Horn looked down at the sleeping attackers from the sky, their beam staffs finally extinguished, though still in their hands. 

"I know these two individuals, Zero. And even you…"

"The name's Bastion." Bastion said calmly, his arms folding into a defiant pose. "You said you knew them."

"Of course I do." Horn said softly, kneeling down beside the shorter one. "These two are from URFAWP…But I lost track of them about six months ago. We all believed they had been killed."

Horn looked up, a puzzled grin on his face.

"I guess we were wrong. I'll be more than happy to answer your questions. If you say that Wycost was found in India, and Maverick to boot, I'll believe you. He was on the roster for the team heading there." Horn picked himself up, brushing the sand off his shorts.

"I keep close tabs on my teams, and for some time now, there have been random occurrences of certain reploids in my organization that have just vanished…like these two." Horn shrugged. "I guess if what you're saying is true, then it's far from random anymore."

"One more question before we shove off, Horn…" Zero quipped. Horn nodded his head.

"Yes?"

"You said you knew these two. What are their names?" Horn grinned.

"Oh, they're twin reploids…brothers, if you will. Don't ask me where they picked it up, but their names are Allegro and Andante." Horn's smile vanished.

"Although I don't know why they'd try to kill me…" Bastion snorted.

"I'm surprised there isn't a bounty on your head, Horn."

"Don't push me, Bastion." Horn said, raising a finger. "I may be willing to cooperate with your investigation of the Calcutta incident, but I'm not too happy with you." Horn shrugged. "Some time from now, you and I will settle the score."

"Count on it." Bastion spat back, cracking his knuckles.

Zero picked up the weighty Andante, lofting him onto his back. He looked at the old enemies, shaking his head.

"You two should learn to get along better. Your rage is Misguided Madness…and if you're not careful, it could get you killed."

Bastion shrugged.

"For the time being, Horn and I will cooperate. Our differences don't enter into this new problem. Deal?" Horn nodded.

"Deal."

For the time being, old enemies were new allies.

But times change.


	14. The Snake's Den

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE SNAKE'S DEN

"Welcome to MHHQ." Zero grunted, dumping Andante off his shoulders. After a long warp back to base, Zero, Bastion, J.K. Horn and the two newly named reploid mystery men Allegro and Andante finally were where they all needed to be.

Horn stuffed his hands into a stark white lab coat he'd put on before leaving with the Hunters, although he still wore his blue blockers. 

Bastion didn't let his eyes off of the scientist for a moment. Neither reploid smiled.

Of course, considering their long history, they didn't have much to smile about. Both had tremendous influences on the other's life. 

And as Bastion folded his arms, letting some of the other Hunters drag Allegro and Andante into the interrogating room, he quietly remembered some of his old missions in the Islamic Jihad.

As wrong as it had been, morally and psychologically, Bastion knew that no one who had been in that conflict was any different.

Zero turned back to Bastion, speaking at long last. Bastion blinked, then frowned.

"Huh?" Zero shook his head.

"Didn't you hear me, Bas? You go take care of Allegro and Andante while I ask Horn some questions."

Bastion's eyes flared up.

"I want to interrogate Horn." Zero shook his hand, glaring at Bastion.

"I'm still your superior officer, Bastion. You and Horn aren't on the best of terms, and I'm not going to allow any possible conflicts to occur on my watch." Bastion bit his tongue, holding in the biting comment he wanted to say.

Zero knew Bastion wasn't too happy. But he didn't care about that.

Somehow, The Maverick Virus, URFAWP, Wycost, Horn and those two crazy reploids Allegro and Andante were all involved. And Zero really hated not knowing who to blow away…

"Come on Horn. We'll talk together in Cain's office." Horn grunted his approval, finally walking down the long corridors with Zero to the Hunter's leader, the old but abled Cain.

Bastion clenched his fist up as he saw Horn calmly walk away from him.

"One day from now, Horn…" Bastion said quietly. "One day from now, you'll be alone…and when that day comes, it would do you a world of good not to turn your back on me." 

Bastion swiveled about, walking opposite from Zero and Horn. He had his orders, too.

Horn saw Bastion walk away, and he turned to Zero.

"How good is Bastion?" Zero blinked, unsure of the question. Horn shrugged. "As a Hunter…how good is he?" Zero scoffed.

"Pretty good. Almost as good as me, better than X if my blue friend isn't miffed. But Bastion always said the one person he'd never want to face was one of his men…"

"Who?" Horn asked.

"Wycost." Zero said calmly. Horn nodded, pulling out a datapadd with Wycost's data.

"Well, it makes sense. When Wycost showed up, we traced him to a transport from Japan. From there…it was unclear. But his personality profile was lousy, and he kept to himself." Horn shook his head. "I don't know how he thought he'd make good URFAWP material, with him being such a grouch."

"Maybe because he can blow a guy's head off from a mile away." Zero spat out. Horn winced at the comment.

"Hey, URFAWP was made for peace." Zero nodded.

"That may be…but we're not gonna know for sure until we get some definitive answers. And that can only come if you tell us EVERYTHING." Zero looked at Horn, his eyes boring on the aging scientist. "You get me? We take our job seriously, and if you've been lying to us, you won't like the end result."

"Peace at any cost." Horn hissed back. "You can keep your saber tucked away for now, Zero. I'm telling the truth when I say I don't know how Wycost got infected, or why my entire URFAWP transport was attacking everything in sight." Horn shook his head. "What's even more puzzling is the fact that the thing had WEAPONS. My transports lack ANY means of self defense. NOTHING. They're ducks in the water in a shooting war."

Zero and Horn plodded along. Zero chose to change the subject, knowing he would only further Horn's frustrations if he kept up with the URFAWP questions.

"So, you made it rich making weapons for Israel?" 

"Correct. I quit, though. Decided I could have a more positive influence on things." 

"Are you sure that you weren't scared out?" Zero asked, probingly. Horn paused, his tucked hands tightening up.

It was a good thing his eyes were covered, or Zero would have spotted the sudden flash of fear in them.

"Yes…" Horn whispered. "It was the Desert Fire."

"Bastion…"

"Horn, this is Central Command! We're picking up a large group of reploid Jihad warriors heading your way…they must have found your base!" 

Horn lifted his head from the latest design schematics on his drawing board, frowning.

"Are you sure?" 

A loud shuddering noise of an explosion overhead silenced all doubts in Horn's mind. "Oh, crud…" Horn leapt up to his feet, his face a mask of horror. 

The other lab technoids were responding in kind, all of them reploids.

Only Horn looked like an aging human. That was what separated him from the rest.

"Seal down the lab! Begin evacuation procedures and ready the self detonation devices!"

The reploids scrambled about, working as quickly as they could.

The Jihad warriors came for two reasons; to destroy them and the base, and to take what would be useful for them later on.

Horn had been through this before, although it hadn't been as bad. An Israeli combat Unit had held the Jihad warriors off that time…of course, they'd had a bit more warning.

Out in the middle of the desert, this secluded locale's main point of defense was secrecy.

By some quirk of fate…They'd been discovered.

Horn held a backup copy of his data on a computer disk in his right hand as he shut down the computers and formatted the hard drives. The Islamic Radicals wouldn't be getting their hands on his newest technological breakthroughs today.

"How are we doing, people?" Horn grimaced, seeing the utter hopelessness they faced. As scientists, they could not fight. 

They merely made the weapons of destruction. 

A tech looked up from his console, his face furrowed in worry.

"It's bad, boss…The counterteams won't get here for another five minutes!" Horn clacked his teeth.

"This is bad…Very bad. We're like vontzes in their bed…and they're pulling out the disinfectant spray." Horn shook his head. "Are we fully shut down?"

All the techs nodded. Horn pounded his fist into his other palm.

"Then let's get the Hell out of here."

Just then, the door to the elevator of the upper level blew in. Two techs standing close to it were disintegrated instantly as the shrapnel and plasma tore them to atoms.

Horn froze.

No one came through, barging in with that kind of brashness…

No one but…

"Oh, Jehovah…" Horn wheezed. "LET'S MOVE IT! IT'S THE DESERT FIRE!"

That name chilled the circuits of every reploid tech in the lab.

The Desert Fire was the Jihad's best reploid warrior. His eyes blazed fiercely, his Buster sang with power, and he was ruthless to a T. Of course, this was all rumor.

No one had yet seen the Desert Fire…and lived.

Horn wasn't about to be another nameless victim.

He ran. The opposite door held the escape hatch.

The other Techs had the same idea as well.

But Horn could hear the screams of three of them as they were shot down by Plasma Fire. 

And he also heard the insane laughter of the warrior.

_The Desert Fire strikes again,_ Horn thought angrily.

But he managed to slip through the door alive, along with the two remaining Techs. The door slammed shut behind them, and Horn wasted no time in lowering the blast doors as well.

It was a second line of defense, but it wouldn't hold out long.

Horn took off down the hall, his associates in close pursuit. It was a mad dash, with the klaxons wailing.

If they could just make it to the hangar, escape could be obtained. There were several speeder bikes well suited for the desert environment there…

Just then, Horn could hear the doors behind him begin to give way, groaning under the heavy fire of their opponents.

Horn's face contorted even tighter as he gauged the distance.

"Curse the maker…" Horn muttered. He had been activated with no Dash Boots, and had never received them. He could only run…

And he knew his foe could dash. 

The Desert Fire did more than dash.

He burned.

After a seemingly endless set of hallway, they at last reached the emergency hangar bay. Horn and the other Two Techs activated the Hover Cycles close by, leaping onto them and gunning the engines. Horn hit the door switch, which raised the metallic gate that overlaid the ramp up to the desert of Israel. The sand above blew down into the hangar, clearing the passageway, but also serving to prevent a clear view of the exit.

Horn gritted his teeth and prepared to gun the powerful engine of the bike.

There was only one escape now.

But as the sand settled, a figure suddenly became visible.

A figure whose eyes, sullen and sunken, were also burning with a fierce intensity.

Horn couldn't believe what he saw.

"Oh, no…" The Desert Fire had turned around, gone back up to the surface and waited for them. When they'd opened the hangar doors above, they had given themselves away.

Now, the Desert Fire, the Jihad's best reploid warrior had them cornered. If they tried to flee out the way they came, they would invariably find themselves staring into more Busters. If they gunned the engines and made a break for it, there was a good chance the warrior in front of them would claim at least one more victim.

The Desert Fire raised his Buster, the sand swirling about him in a cloak of mystery. Horn yowled angrily and released the throttle. His left hand's thumb pushed on the trigger of the handlegrip, activating the cannon hidden in the nose of the speeder bike.

The covering slipped back, and as Horn's cycle burned off of the paved floor and up the ramp, his cohorts in close pursuit, Horn found himself matching eyes with the reploid above.

Those eyes were sinister, looking for death. Horn found himself being frozen by the eyes at that moment, and he almost lost control.

By sheer will alone, Horn looked away from the burning optics of The Desert Fire, and pounded the fire switch on his left handlebar.

A burst of plasma fire ejected from the hidden cannon's snout, soaring along and slamming into the pavement at the attacker's feet.

The concrete chips flew up, gashing into the foe's face, causing him to yowl for a moment. But the Jihad warrior wasn't fazed for long, and as Horn drew closer, the hated killer readied his Buster, not taking the time to charge up.

Horn let the bike go to full power, charging at the crazed assasain in a head on crash.

The warrior fired off three shots. The first was a blow aimed at Horn's head. It missed his vitals by inches, instead melting one of his eyes and a side of his head into slag. The other two were more accurate, and the loud explosions behind Horn suddenly stopped the pain being fed to his brain.

Only he had survived. 

Horn's bike slammed into the warrior at last, shoving him forth and jarring the wind out of him. The warrior howled in pain, raising his Buster again to eliminate Horn.

Horn hit the airbrake, and the Desert Fire, the most ruthless of all the Islamic reploid attack forces, was sent sprawling through the air, to tumble harshly onto the nearby dunes.

Horn wasted no time in regunning the engines and turning in a different direction.

The only direction which safety held…Towards Jerusalem.

But even that wouldn't be safe for long, Horn thought wryly.

He had been marked, a mark for life from The Desert Fire. Perhaps he would keep the scars from that encounter…just to remind him.

To remind him that by some miracle, he had lived.

"I am going to get my sorry carcass out of this warzone…" Horn wheezed. The injury was more severe than he thought it had been. Decreasing his speed to make up for the lack of visual acuity, Horn pulled back his quivering thumb from the trigger of the bike's blaster.

"Never again…" Horn muttered. "Weapons, fighting, death…There has to be a better way." Horn raised his head, his good eye staring ahead with a greater focus.

Now he knew what we would do after he got out of the weapons manufacturing business for Israel.

"Time to put all my royalties to good use…" Horn said quietly. "World Peace must be obtained by nonviolence. Otherwise, it's only temporary."

But even as Horn was miles away, he could still feel the burning eyes of The Desert Fire, glaring into him.

That was one person that would haunt Horn for years to come.

"Horn, you listening?" 

"Hmm…?" Horn's optics focused back in, and once more he was staring at Zero, frowning at him.

Cain was also looking on with curious interest, his arms folded. Horn let his right hand go up to his face.

The scars were still there. One large robotic optic had replaced the one Bastion had blown out so many years ago.

In a different life…

Only now, that life had come back to haunt them both.

"Sorry…" Horn muttered. "I'm not exactly up to par yet." Horn looked up, finally slipping his blue blockers to rest on his hair. "Mind if I go take a bit of a breather?" 

Cain's hawkish eyes scrutinized J.K. Horn for a long time. Finally, he shrugged and looked over to Zero.

"I don't see why not. Just don't leave the base, and don't run into Bastion. If you two met, there'd be a bit more fireworks than I'd like to have at the moment." Horn's eyes narrowed.

"I don't think that is going to be a problem. I'm as inclined to want to speak with Bastion as I am to stick my head into a vat of corrosive acids." Cain grunted.

"Good. And while you're at it, check in with Hazil at the Medical Bay. I think we should also take the precaution of giving you a preliminary scan."

"Scan?"

"For the Virus." Cain said shortly. Horn understood the meaning. They were willing to let him walk on his leash, but they wanted him to take his rabies shot like a good dog. 

"Very well." Horn said in a tone of surrender. Zero watched carefully as Horn walked out the door.

Cain kicked his feet up, frowning at the Crimson Hunter.

"How on the level do you think he's being with us?" Zero shrugged, not looking directly at Cain.

"Hard to say. One, he's a reploid. Two, he's highly intelligent, which could give him the possibility to lie, and do it well. And we still have yet to establish some clear connections between Horn, URFAWP, Allegro and Andante, and the Maverick Virus and Wycost."

Cain shook his head.

"Shaddap! Aich, too much information." Cain rubbed the bald spot on his head. 

"All right. Keep me posted." Zero clacked his teeth.

"That's about all I do for ya anymore. Where are the days we used to play golf…"

"They vanished around the same time Sigma's first Revolt smashed my leg to uselessness." Zero groaned.

"Oh, gimme a break…I've been KILLED. And you still whine about your leg?" Cain grinned widely.

"I have to have something. With no liver spots, rotting teeth or arthritis, what else is there to complain about?" Zero nodded.

"Aah, yes. Classic male human aging. You get old, you get creaky, and you complain about lost control." Zero kicked himself towards the door. "I'm getting out of here before you make hair sprout from my nose."

"You'd best watch yourself, Zero, or I'm gonna open up a can of Ben Gay on yo' sorry BEEHIND!" Cain bellowed loudly, beaming brightly.

Zero snorted as the door slid behind him. Cain pulled out a bottle of water and slugged down a sip before capping it back shut and placing it on his desk.

"I somehow get the feeling we've let the lions into the mansion." Cain muttered softly. "Zero, keep an eye on everyone…I don't think my stick could silence a riot."

"Yellow? Anyone home?" Horn's voice was a bit unsteady as he walked into the confines of the Medical Bay, the metallic door sliding shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss.

One figure sitting in a chair, half asleep, righted himself and stared with cold icy eyes towards him. Dressed in battle armor, the figure was gray, with tinges of white and gold trimmings. He sat beside the motionless bedridden figure of another reploid, but this one obviously in far worse condition.

While Horn could see that the dark green reploid, more black than anything was cleaned up and repaired for the most part, he could also see the delicate markings that came along with repairs.

"He's not in terrific shape, is he?" Horn said, motioning to the sleeping reploid. The gray one didn't speak, but sagely nodded his head.

"He's infected with the Maverick Virus." Horn swiveled his head in surprise at the new voice, and found himself staring face to face with a reploid carefully wiping his hands onto a towel.

Horn narrowed his eyes at the individual, and the other figure did the same.

"You look a lot like me, you know that?" Horn said cautiously. The other one shrugged.

"We both have gray hair, if that's what you mean. Also the worn scars of life…" The reploid pointed to the side of his face, where a jagged healed scar lay. "Some are more visible than others. I'm Hazil, the HQ's Medical Reploid Doctor."

Horn shook Hazil's hand, finding the grip firm.

"Infected where? I thought the Virus had been eliminated!" Horn said with a new sense of worry. Hazil frowned.

"So did we…then Wycost here turned up in India…on one of your transports." Horn sighed.

"Well, you know who I am then." Hazil nodded.

"J.K. Horn, ex-Israeli scientist, and foudner of URFAWP." Horn raised his eyebrows at the first comment made, and Hazil grinned. "When you're in the British Military, a lot of things aren't so classified. But I left, too. I work here now." Horn grunted.

"It seems a lot of us had some past Military career." Hazil made a noise in the back of his throat like a 'yeeep' and smiled.

"The pay sucks, that's why I joined up here." Horn raised another eyebrow.

"You serious?" Hazil chortled.

"Course not! I left because a friend asked me to." Hazil waved his about the bay. "So, what are you in for?" Hazil said, his voice taking on a serious tone. Horn shook his head.

"Cain and Zero would appreciate it if I took the time to be scanned for the Virus." 

"Well, let's just take a look then…" Horn reached over to his tool tray and pulled a Medical Scanner from it. Activating the device, he swept the probe up and down Horn's body. Watching the scan complete itself, Hazil finally grunted in acknowledgement and turned the device off. "Sorry to rain on their parade, but you're clean." Hazil shrugged. "At least, by all current Virus configurations. The batch Wycost got hit with is a new strain…if it was the old one, he wouldn't be infected." Horn raised an eyebrow.

"Why? Is he immunized?" Hazil shook his head, giving a wry smile.

"Not quite. Some reploids, by sheer willpower alone have been able to face the Virus in the reaches of their subconscious mind. I don't know how it works exactly, but X, Wycost, and Zero have all experienced it. You face the Virus on a miniscule level, all of it against you in a battle for control of your body, mind and sanity." Hazil gritted his teeth. "It's the ultimate test of a warrior. Wycost did it ALONE. When X and Zero faced it, they had each other."

Horn nodded.

"I saw the reports on Wycost when he was in URFAWP. Strong willed, didn't talk much. Secluded himself, and was on speaking terms only with another reploid by the name of Isaiah." Hazil rubbed his chin.

"Yeah, that's Wycost. A thing to know about him, Horn. Be his foe, and you're more than likely to be destroyed in the next few cycles. Be his friend, through a long and arduous process, and Wycost becomes your best pal for life."

Doan coughed for a moment before returning to his vigil, breaking Hazil out of his trance. 

"And we still haven't been able to…" Hazil stopped himself. He looked at Horn, in a look that was a cross between guilt and sympathy. "Sorry, I can't tell you that. Regulations." Horn grunted.

"Discrimination, you mean."

"NO." Hazil let his eyes flare up. "Patient doctor DISCRETION." 

Thankfully, the door slid open again at that moment. And in walked a figure of beauty, Bristol.

Horn let his eyes stare in awe at the newcomer. Hazil only harrumphed.

"Back again, Bris?" Bristol held out a datapadd, her eyes weary.

"I've been able to figure out the proper metals, but as far as finding the right variables for Electromagnetic Repulsion itself…not to mention the storage capabilities this thing needs..it's getting impossible." Hazil grumbled, slapping himself in the face.

"Maybe we bit off more than we could chew with this new Flight Armor."

Horn voiced his presence in the room with a loud cough. Bristol and Hazil looked over, and Hazil spoke.

"Yeah, Horn?" Horn smiled a broad smile, looking more at Bristol than Hazil.

"I made a living designing prototype weapons systems. Perhaps I could help." Hazil blinked, then looked over to Bristol. 

"It all right with you?" Bristol shrugged.

"I don't see why not. All right Horn…" Bristol underhanded the datapadd to Horn, who caught it easily. "This Flight Armor is designated 'Angel's Advantage.' It doesn't have thrusters of any kind, and relies on…"

"I'm seeing it." Horn's smiling eyes had vanished into a concentrated glare at the stats. "Sweet mother of pearl…this thing is YEARS beyond its time. Genius is at work here, fellows." Horn looked up, and winked at Bristol. "Female genius." Horn looked back to the stats, then downloaded the data to Hazil's console.

"I think I can help you out with this. Hazil, could you bring up the 3-D schematic?" Hazil thought for a long moment, then hit the necessary commands. The silvery white wings, streaked down the lateral axes with jagged golden lightning bolts, slowly rotated in the freedom of cyberspace. Hazil took one last look at Wycost, and satisfied that Doan was maintaining the vigil, looked back to Horn's work.

"Bristol, I'm seeing a combination of systems not thought of before. Electromagnetic repulsion actuators, Bipolar discharge Wing Blasters, and a recharge capability that relies on friction with the very air this thing flies in…" Horn nodded. "Brilliant. But it's a pipe dream unless we can nail down some of the more technical factors to it." Horn nodded again.

"First off, the stats on this sucker." Horn said, his smile wide. "What you need the most right now, is basically the adaptive equipment so this thing will always be in control of how much it repels itself from the earth. For that, you need experience with antigravity systems." Horn jerked a thumb at himself. "Which I happen to have. Hold on a sec while I upload something here…" 

Horn's fingers flew in a blur over the keys as he tapped out a rudimentary program for the controls. He hummed to himself as he went along.

Bristol and Hazil watched in awe as the lights in the room seemed to dim. Horn was firing on all pistons, and the results were astonishing.

Finally, Horn turned himself about and nodded.

"Finished. It's closely connected with the main program of the suit itself, so I had a little more time to worry about the versatility. Also while I was at it, I gave the thing dual capability and an energy buffer."

"Ehh?" Bristol said, her expression puzzled. Hazil snorted in disgust, and Horn scratched the back of his head.

"Lemme explain. I made sure for one thing that this suit won't be disabled by EMP pulses. Considering that it WORKS with Electromagnetic energy, that was a bit easier…just some minute alterations of the nanocircuitry. Also, I made sure this thing won't go up in flames. Each wing now has its own set of functions, with the main processor for both in the joint connector pack from which they emanate. That means, if one of them gets shot up to hell, the other wing will respond for the lack of control, and compensate thusly. Whoever you're making this for will be very safe flying Air Horn." Horn chuckled at the joke.

Bristol couldn't believe what she was hearing, or seeing for that matter.

J.K. Horn had just remodified the suit.

And not only had he made it work, he'd also made it better. Horn didn't stop however, his mouth shooting off as fast as his mind.

"If you really want to go all out, I'd increase the armor durability on the center joint of the wings. The flyers themselves need to be made out of the metal you already have them designated as, otherwise the electromagnetic repulsion principles it uses won't work. The joint however houses the crucial control circuitry, and you'll wanna protect that for all its worth."

"Horn…thank you." Bristol said softly. His smile was intoxicating, and soon she too was beaming brightly. "I think this may actually fly now." 

Horn cocked his thumb and forefinger at the console screen and winked.

"Once a designer, always a designer. But you're welcome." Bristol downloaded the new data to her portable datapadd and began to walk towards the door.

"I'm going to go see if our stores have the necessary materials." Hazil waved a hand, making sure to keep his own emotions buried under indifference. When the door slid shut, Horn sighed, and leaned against an empty bed.

"She's something, isn't she?" Hazil harrumphed for a moment, then brought up the newest Medical Reports he had to look over. Horn wasn't fazed by the brusqueness.

"Is she taken? I think that perhaps she'd enjoy a night of my com…"

"She's taken." Hazil chirped, not bothering to turn his head. Horn halted himself, then pouted his face.

"Aah, poo. I don't think the other person would mind if I just took her out for a drink…"

"Oh, trust me, He'd mind." Hazil chuckled softly. Horn rapped his fingers on the bed and got to his feet, slyly looking at Hazil.

"How can you be so sure? Who's her main squeeze?" Hazil stopped his typing and swiveled about in his seat.

Hazil's eyes were full of mocking scorn, a tinge of disbelief, and also a titch of glaring hatred. 

"You sure you wanna know, Horn? I don't think you'll like the answer." Horn snorted.

"Oh, come now. Who is it? X? Zero?" 

"Bastion." Horn's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened.

Then the slow burning anger set in.

"Him." Horn shrugged, letting the sour mood leave him. "I suppose its possible for people to change…but still, I am jealous." Hazil snorted.

"Hey, only a few people in HQ know about their feelings. And if you SPREAD THAT AROUND, you'll have not only Bastion, but me at your throat."

"I can keep quiet." Horn said succinctly. He sighed. "Aah, a young fawn like her would never go for an aging bear like me anyway." The twinkle in his eye restored itself. "But we can dream."

"Dream all you like, Horn." Hazil said. "Just get the Hell outta my office. You did your good deed, and you're not infected. With those two things taken care of, I suggest you let me get back to the care of Wycost." Horn clapped his hands together and held his palms out to Hazil.

"No sweat, doc. I'm vapor." Horn walked out of the office, wondering where he should go next. 

Hazil turned back to Wycost. Doan was still there, his eyes somewhat less bleary than before. But still, he noted that Doan was out of it.

"Doan, why doncha go get some food?"

"My reactor is running normally." Doan said blearily, the words coming out with less clarity than usual. Hazil snorted. 

"If you're gonna be dumb about it, at least do yourself a favor and take a nap." Doan shook his head.

"I have to stay with Wycost…I owe him that much." Hazil tapped the side of his arm, then sighed.

"All right Doan. I'll tell you what. Five hours from now, we'll try and wake Wycost up…and get rid of the Virus as well. But for now, get yourself some sleep. Whatever debt you feel you owe him can't be repaid if you're too tired to talk straight." 

Doan considered the option for a moment.

For once, Hazil was making sense.

"All right." Doan said resignedly. He picked himself up, walked over to an empty medical bed, plopped himself down on it and promptly activated his stasis mode.

Hazil shook his head.

"Out like a light. Of course, he's been up for 2 days straight now." Hazil checked his figures.

"Five hours from now…all righty then. Not enough time to get to Cossack's and back…I'll have to do that tomorrow. For now though, I think I'll take a snooze too." Hazil's musings were loud, as loud as his grayish hair that sprouted from his skull. As he plopped back into his comfortable reclining chair, Hazil chuckled a bit. 

"Too bad Horn didn't know who he was making that Flight Armor for. If he did, he might have made a different choice." Hazil grinned. "I don't think Bastion will mind much, though. I'll just have to remember to tell Bristol not to mention his role in their development…for a while yet anyhow."

"Wake up." A dousing of cold water slammed into Allegro's face, causing the groggy reploid to sputter and spit angrily. He found his hands bound by energy chains, and his legs kept in heavy locks.

Allegro had been disabled. He couldn't move, he could only see. At least he wasn't blindfolded.

When his optics whirred into focus and compensated for the light, Allegro identified his surroundings. Andante was beside him, as hogtied as he was. A frowning face was looking down at them, a face with long spiky brown hair and a definite mean streak.

"You." Allegro said angrily, his mouth curling up into a snarl. The Hunter raised his hand.

"Now just simmer down, Allegro." Allegro did, more out of disbelief the Hunter knew his name. The Hunter nodded. "Yeah, I know who you are, and your brother Andante. Just so we're on the level, you can call me Bastion. I have more than a few questions for you two…one is based on the events just recently, and the other is based more on why you two decided to attack Canark, and I suspect several other reploids."

"Canark?" Allegro said questioningly, letting the puzzlement of his mind seep into his voice. "Hey, I don't know any Canark. I just know you helped defend Horn."

"It wasn't my idea of a mission objective either." Bastion snapped. "Still, seeing you opens old wounds…and makes a few new ones. So if we all want to get along, you tell me everything you know, and you tell me honestly." 

Allegro brooded over that for a long time. He looked over to Andante, silent and stonefaced about their situation.

"All right. But I want to know just where we are." Bastion shrugged.

"Maverick Hunter HQ, Tokyo Japan. Right now, we're all in the detention area."

"What about our weapons?" Andante asked calmly. Bastion snorted.

"Impounded." Andante sighed.

"Please return them soon." Bastion shook his head.

"What, so you can escape?" Allegro coughed.

"Our foe exists in this building. Horn. But those beam staffs are valuable and irreplaceable items in our inventory." Bastion folded his arms.

"Just where did you pick them up?" Allegro grinned.

"We found them." Bastion glared, his eyes narrowing.

"I told you to come clean."

"He is." Bastion turned to Andante, who looked up at him with calm and honest eyes. "We did find them, while rummaging through an shipment once." Bastion clacked his teeth.

Something told him Andante was being on the level.

"All right. Moving away from your weapons, why do you wanna take out Horn so badly?" 

Allegro and Andante brooded over it for a long time. Finally, Allegro lifted his head and looked at Bastion with hollow eyes.

"You've seen what resulted in that Wycost person. Well, we also received a similar experience ourselves. But we had one thing that Wycost didn't: Each other." 

Andante shook his head.

"Our attacker was heavily robed. We couldn't make out too many features, save for a pair of glowing red eyes and clawed hands."

"We barely escaped. Everyone else on the transport was killed or infected by him…" Bastion listened intently as the two reploids continued to talk.

"Who else BUT Horn could set that up?" Allegro finally said, angrily staring at Bastion.

For a moment, Bastion almost agreed. But sanity stopped him. 

He wasn't Maverick. And he wasn't rogue.

"Just what did this shadowy attacker say to you?" Andante coughed for a moment, shaking his head.

"He said enough. He said that it was time to take the next step in loyalty to our cause." 

Bastion nodded. It certainly did seem to indicate that Horn was involved. But then his eyes shifted, darkening. 

Bastion still suspected these two of trying to kill him. It was possible that they could be lying now.

"I think we should continue this later then." Bastion finished. Allegro and Andante looked up at him, their faces harboring some disgust. Bastion returned it. "I'm not Horn's greatest fan either. But he's in the base with us, so stop worrying. The Snake, as you call him is in the den." 

Bastion walked out of the confinement chamber, then motioned to Gavin. Gavin hit a command on his console, and the opening to the place where Allegro and Andante were sealed itself with an energy barrier.

The shackles which bound the reploid's hands shut off, then hovered back into the wall for later use. Allegro rubbed his wrists, then looked over to Bastion.

"So, you gonna keep us in here?" Bastion nodded.

"Until we get things straightened out." Bastion looked over to Gavin, his eyes serious again.

"Keep a close eye on them. Call Kol and Jad if you get bleary. I don't want these two guys to BLINK and you not see it, all right?" 

Gavin nodded his head quickly, then hit the comm button for his two cohorts.

"The trio won't fail you." Bastion nodded.

"You haven't yet, Gavin. I don't think you will."

Wycost was half dead.

The floating Virus, mutated beyond what he had first seen it as, was just behind him. Its presence was a constant reminder to the utter futility of his struggles.

It had gained him only pain. The Virus had yet to break a sweat. His armor was in scraps, the terrain was unfriendly. His head cringed in pain with every cycle of the floating behemoth's existence.

**I told you it was useless to face me, Wycost.**

Wycost groaned in response, too weak to throw a retort back. He knew that all of this was nothing more than the subconscious circuitry of his mind, and that all of this was in his head.

But the battle was real. The Virus was winning.

**Correction: I HAVE won,** the virus laughed darkly, the waves of its laughter slamming into Wycost's head and causing him to scream.

The pain brought him back to life. It jolted his senses into order.

"Not…yet…" Wycost panted. By sheer will alone, he picked himself up, and tuned to face the floating darkness of wires and moaning faces. "You…haven't won…yet…" Wycost stuttered, his right eye twitching, threatening to shut down at any moment. 

**You are strong, Hunter.** The Virus now spoke in anger and disgust at him.

It was annoyed that he had held out so long. Most fell victim in moments. 

This Wycost had held out for days. The mind numbing blasts of the three imperative commands hadn't fazed him. Only by adapting to speak to him as a voice…as a ghost, had the Virus managed to wear him down.

Several times, Wycost had almost overcome it. Whenever he raised his Buster in the subconscious plane of stasis, the Virus cringed, feeling the reploid's systems build up energy for a cleansing delete of the foreign invader.

The Virus had been able to halt his worrisome attacks by shaping itself into the appearance of a close friend of the green Hunter. 

Just then, something happened that hadn't occurred in days.

A bright blinding flash suddenly lit up the darkness that had existed in Wycost's mind for many cycles.

It caught both Wycost and the Virus by surprise.

**What the…?!** Wycost picked up the stunned expression emanated by the Virus, who in its disbelief had forgotten it was still transmitting. 

"The light…" Wycost blurred. "They're…trying to wake me up!" 

**The fools…**the Virus cackled, its composure restored. **They may think that it will be you who wakes up, but it will be me. **The Virus pulled away from Wycost, floating up into the air. Its destination was a floating spark of light that represented the gateway to consciousness…to the control of the body.

If the Virus got there, its control would be complete again. If it got there, Wycost would be crammed into a small corner of the mind. 

Wycost wouldn't be Wycost if the Virus reached that light beacon.

"NO!" For the first time in days, a powerful fury erupted around Wycost, giving him newfound strength. His body stood tall, and his vision cleared.

He was running on sheer terror alone.

Terror because if the Virus took control, there would be trouble. Wycost knew what he was capable of. If the Virus became him, took full control…

There would be no stopping it. 

Everyone Wycost knew would be dead. Everyone he cared about. Killed off in the same manner that Isaiah had vanished as.

The horror on his face as Wycost's Buster raised, charged, then fired.

Isaiah had vanished in the white hot blast from Wycost's Buster. 

Wycost could just see the others vanishing in the same way.

"I won't let you do it!" Wycost yowled. His right hand vanished, shifting seamlessly into his Buster.

His eyes burned bright fire at the ascending mass of blackness.

"You Demon…COME BACK AND FIGHT ME!" Wycost fired off a semi charged shot.

For the first time since Wycost had been infected, the Virus screamed.

The subconscious mind of Wycost, the very core of his spirit had struck back at the invader in his systems. It had activated the countermeasure defenses within his body, the nanobots in his bloodstream that repaired his damage and gave energy boosts to ailing subcircuitry. The nanobots had taken on a separate role now, the same role that they had fulfilled midway through the Fifth Maverick Uprising.

Wycost's body was fighting back. Wycost's body was purifying itself.

Back in the arean of his mind, Wycost heard the earth shattering cry of his foe.

The black swirling mass of wires, energy and moaning faces began to descend, turning on him with animal ferocity.

**How dare you…**

"Shut up." Wycost growled. He fired off another shot, slamming it into the very center of the Virus's core. Another scream that echoed through his mind.

Wycost took the loud scream, kept his cool as it slammed through his brain.

The Virus retaliated, shifting seamlessly into the image of Isaiah, full bodied.

**Wycost…why are you doing this?** Wycost gritted his teeth, fluid clouding his optics.

"You're a sick illusion…you twist and pervert anything to slink along!" Wycost screamed, firing off another shot.

This time, the plasma took a chunk of the Virus's mass with it, subliminating steam evaporating a two feet square area of darkness.

It changed again…This time it was Doan.

**Wycost, please! **Doan's hands waved, bleeding with torn servomotors showing.

Wycost fired again. Another scream from the mass…

Another shift. Bastion.

**What makes you think you can stop the Virus, Wycost? Fighting it has only brought more death and suffering to the world!** Wycost yowled, for that phrase sunk in deeper than the others.

But his rage granted him clarity.

"Noo…YOU'RE NOT BASTION!" Wycost fired again.

Now the Virus was only half there. 

And it shifted one last time…

Wycost found himself staring into a mirror image. A dark, soulless mirror image.

It raised a tattered finger, its shattered glasses uncovering the dark hollow sockets that stared into him.

**You are me now, Wycost. You have killed everyone to survive…**The ghost laughed. It backed off, looking at Wycost and laughing shallowly. **You are no better than me…you are a blight, a force of death and destruction. Nothing in your life has brought joy to the masses. It has only brought despair!**

Wycost's knees went weak. Those words did more damage than the past hellish days had done to him. 

"I…I…"

**You are become death, the destroyer of worlds.**

Wycost realized at long last a terrible truth, the one shard of crystal purity in his life.

The Virus was right.

He was death. 

"I am a threat to few…You are a threat to many." Wycost's eyes were tired, the fire had left them.

The anger of Wycost had evaporated at long last.

The fire that had driven him his entire life was finally doused.

He raised his Buster to his mirror image and nodded.

"To that end…You're going down before me." The Virus shut its eyes, waiting for the blast to come.

It was a large one, so bright it blinded Wycost.

And at long last, he was clean. Self deletion had repeated itself.

Wycost lowered his Buster, trembling softly. He let it shift back into a hand.

With the Virus gone, the light was drawn towards him. Wycost sadly recognized it for what it was.

Reality.

A reality in which his only mission had been to destroy.

"He's coming out of it…" Doan said softly. 

Wycost's eyes blurred back to life, granting light a chance to shine on him. Doan's hand went down and pushed on Wycost's chest, stopping him from rising.

Doan's face was set stern, but his eyes twinkled, with a twinge of joy.

"Don't move, pal. You just woke up from a very bad nightmare."

Wycost found his energy levels were incredibly low, and drowsiness overcame him.

Hazil shook his head at the stats.

"When we woke you up Wycost, I was able to identify the Virus. It's changed a bit…but it's the same old piece of Software code we've been fighting for years. By some miracle, you overcame it again!" 

Wycost shut his eyes. 

"I didn't overcome it." His body began to quiver slightly. "I destroyed it." Hazil shook his head.

"Yeah, so? That's how you've always done it!" Wycost's left hand clenched up.

"Death…its always how I've handled things. Death." Wycost choked out a sob. "It's all I've ever dealt, all I've ever made a living in. I'm no better than the Virus…No better than a Maverick…I AM MY OWN ENEMY!!" Wycost cried out.

At long last, he broke down. His ordeal had clarified his existence, tested his boundaries, and pushed him beyond his ability to a new level.

But most of all, it had made him realize something.

He was as much of a threat as Sigma. 

Weariness at last took its toll on him, and Wycost slipped back into stasis.

Hazil shook his head at the new data.

"I don't understand him at all anymore…" 

Doan silently traced Wycost's arm, noting how his armor had restored itself to its natural green. The black line was more pronounced than before, though.

"I do." Doan said quietly. He turned to look at Hazil, his eyes clear as day. "Wycost has undergone a terrible ordeal within himself. Taking on the Virus a second time has tested him to his limits. When he wakes up, he'll be able to tell us everything that happened…until he does, we can only know this."

Doan got up, and for the first time since he had arrived in the Bay, finally walked towards the door.

"I can tell you this, though. The Wycost that wakes up tomorrow will be a new one. The Wycost of fury, of hatred and indifference is gone forever. He also has mutated."

Doan walked out of the Bay, and the door slid shut.

At long last, only Hazil and Wycost remained in the bay. Hazil shook his head.

"We all change in life. Wycost has always been an example of extremes…I can only wonder what he'll become next."


	15. Rebirth Of The Blight

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: REBIRTH OF THE BLIGHT

After being kept on standby for months, the silent self maintaining underground base activated by outside command. Lights, not turned on since their original installation activated. The air filters whirred into overtime, making clear this base was built for long term hibernation.

Someone had built this place to last…built it for a very different reason than most facilities.

That someone finally walked in through the airlock from the ground above. Its feet scuffled on the cold concrete floor, but he didn't notice.

There were other things on his mind. Like the alternate personality he had harbored for more than a year.

A very long and very difficult year. 

"But we survived…"The raspy voice cackled. "Oh, we most definitely survived, my master." The response was a pulse from the second personality in his head. The hulking monster in the newly activated base blinked his bright red eyes, shining from the depths underneath his cloak. "What did you say? You want to pout?"

A blaring thought smashed through his mind, making the creature wince and grab onto his head with a pair of furry, metallic clawed hands. "Don't hurt me! So you want out…" The creature lowered his hands. "That can be arranged. For now, let's get you into the main computer. After that, we'll see about building you a new body."

The brown cloaked figure, insane beyond anyone's descriptions plodded over to the large main console and slipped out the disk drive slot tray. He pulled back the right sleeve of his cloak, revealing his arm.

It was thin, wiry, and muscular, with a fine layer of fur covering the metallic limb. A rattling shackle was still connected on its wrist, for with all the work, secretive and necessary as it was for their mission, the creature had never had time to remove it.

It still angered him. At long last in this place, he would be able to remove it. 

But the first order of business was carrying out one crucial command that was close to hardwired in his brain.

SURVIVE. 

His hand spouted blackness, a plethora of forces that swarmed onto the drive.

The small wave of computerized energy and nanobots also carried a chip the size of a Triscuit. 

It was an ominous chip, one that held the data for a dark individual…and a dark mission.

Finally, freed of the second voice in his mind that had existed for hundreds of cycles, the hulking clawed creature cackled even louder.

"I…I'm me again!" The Control Chip held by the nanobots was finally inserted and connected to the core of the computer.

The data…the personality of the individual on it flowed freely through the machine, infecting it but making sure to preserve all the functions the computer held. Finally, the giant monitor overhead flickered to life.

A wire frame head…a green wire frame head, bald and frowning. The synthesized voice was accurate to the being who it belonged to.

"I lost contact with the Virus connected to Wycost." The head's voice was deep, growly, a low bass tonal. The cloaked figure pulled the garment that had hidden his figure for so long off of his body and cackled.

"Even so, that self delete will have tortured him more than anything. We…we have mutated." The wire head on the screen blinked.

"Wycost will tell them all he knows. The element of surprise will be lost…we must act quickly." The clawed figure activated a nearby plasma torch, slicing the shackles off of his arms. Rubbing the part where they had scratched against for 4 seasons, the reploid cackled.

"So, we attack." The head shook back and forth.

"First, we prepare the assault. I assume that this place has regenerative capabilities?" The reploid staring up at the screen sniffed, his red eyes flashing brightly, gleaming off of the sharp teeth in his mouth.

"Of course! I followed your instructions to the letter…More correctly, the URFAWP fools I infected with the low level Virus followed them. I was just the Foreman!"

"A good one at that. Who shall we bring back to life from our last Uprising?" 

The bushy tailed figure tapped the side of his arm, pondering the question.

"The big guns, Sigma. The big guns." The head nodded.

"So, I assume this to be..?"

"Narwhal. Koala. Albatross. Meerkat…and of course, you have me, Sigma."

"I could not forget you." The head said calmly. "It is thanks to you I am still alive today, and not rotting in the sewers under Tokyo." The head activated the necessary commands. 

Ten feet away, five synthesizing tubes bubbled into life, each holding the data for the reploid they were to recreate.

Within moments, each of the keypads connected to the tubules were flashing instructions.

Nitro Narwhal.

Killer Koala.

Airborne Albatross.

Megavolt Meerkat.

Sigma.

The laughter filled the underground room again as the two Mavericks cackled loudly.

"With the generals restored, it will take only a few commands to rally our URFAWP troops. The Mavericks live again…"

"The Hunters thought they had won…" Sigma mused. "Those optimistic fools were mistaken."

There came a knock at Bastion's door. Lifting his head from the latest reports, the pushed his chair back from the small desk.

"Yes?" Bastion asked, getting up from his seat. Yawning, he realized that after this he'd be ready for a long snooze. "Fourteen days…" Bastion said softly to himself.

The voice came through the door in easy response, timid and quiet.

"It's me." Bastion smiled widely.

"Bristol." Bastion shut the datapadd with his reports off, then walked over to the door. It slid open, to show Bristol smiling in return. She lifted up a flower and handed it to him.

"Evening, luv." Bristol looked about. "Can I come in?" Bastion shrugged.

"I've seen your room. I don't see why not." Bastion backed away from the door, letting Bristol walk into the spacious quarters. It was larger than other rooms, and Bristol assumed it came with the rank.

"Nice place, Bastion." Bristol said quietly. Bastion nodded. 

"I keep my things in order. So, what's the special occasion?" Bastion's smile was soft, warm and tender compared to the psychoid grins he had harbored on occasion. Plopping back into his seat, Bastion turned the room lights up, unknowingly yawning again.

Bristol giggled in response, causing Bastion to frown and level a semi-annoyed gaze at her.

"What?"

"You yawned." Bastion shrugged.

"It happens when I get tired." Bristol shook her head, her own sad smile overpowering his.

"I have something to tell you that might perk you up." Bastion blinked, then shrugged.

"Yes?" Bristol tossed him a datapadd, and Bastion caught it easily.

"Turn it on." Bristol said wearily. Bastion did as he was told, watching the backlit screen flicker into existence, then bring up a 3-Dimensional model, softly rotating.

Bastion's eyes went wide as he saw it.

"Good Lord…It's…It's…"

"It's what I've been working on with Hazil for the past few days, Bastion. A replacement for your Powerstorm…an advanced replacement."

"Angel's Advantage…? What is that supposed to mean?" Bristol smiled faintly.

"Two things, Bastion. Two things which I know. Angels are warriors, strong and powerful like no other, with pure strength of will and purpose." Bristol raised her hand up, gently caressing his worn cheek, looking into his eyes with her own glistening blue orbs. "And also because…because you are my angel, Bastion." 

Bastion, for one time in his life was speechless. 

Because he could reciprocate.

He found himself bringing Bristol into a tight embrace, hugging her tightly to him.

"You're my angel, Bristol." Bastion said softly. Bristol laid her head on his shoulder, sniffing back the happy tear.

"I know." 

"Thanks to you, I'll get to fly again."

"You never stopped flying, Bastion." Bristol said. "You never stopped flying."

Bastion yawned again, although this time it was more a yawn of contentment. 

"I'm tired." Bastion said. "We should probably get to bed soon."

"I couldn't agree more." Bristol said. She pulled away from Bastion, then activated her warp controls. In a flash of light, she morphed into her periwinkle blue nightgown.

Bastion blinked, unsure of what she was doing. Then it hit him.

"You wanna stay here the night?" Bristol nodded, smiling softly.

"If you don't mind, Bastion. I just found you…I made a promise I wouldn't lose you. Please…don't let me be alone tonight."

Bastion got up, gently nodding his head.

"That's just fine, Bristol." Bastion smiled again, brushing the back of his head with a hand.

In another flash of warped light, Bastion removed his armor and shifted into a gray baggy T-Shirt and a black pair of sweat shorts.

They both climbed into the bed.

Then they just collapsed.

The day had been a long one for the both of them.

Being close to one another was all that they wanted. To reploids, there is no such thing as sex. There is just companionship.

Bristol fell asleep first, her small body radiating heat as she breathed softly against Bastion's chest.

Bastion stared at the ceiling for a while, his smile growing smaller as he dozed off.

He could be like this for a long time.

"Lucy, I'm HOOOME!" In the darkness of the underground caverns underneath Cossack's Citadel, a gruff and grouchy voice cracked the silence to shards.

Cossack jerked himself awake from his easy chair, and saw that Pharaoh Man who had been keeping an eye on him was on his feet, his steady eyes focusing on where the voice had come from.

"Voiceprint identified." Pharaoh Man said. Looking down at Cossack, he shrugged and let his Pharaoh Blaster shift back into a hand. "It's Hazil from the MHHQ."

Cossack frowned, then stumbled to his feet.

"Hazil? Hmm…he said he'd show up unexpectedly."

The footsteps of the approaching reploid were somewhat muffled in the dim, but not completely. Cossack sat back, breathing easily. 

Pharaoh Man was here to protect him. He was the closest thing to a son Cossack had ever had.

Finally, the Medical reploid stepped into the lights of Cossack's command area, blinking for a moment while he lugged about a giant pack of tools and equipment.

"Hey, did I come here on the graveyard shift? C'Mon!" Pharaoh shrugged and activated all the lights in the underground command cavern.

Hazil covered his eyes for a moment, then finally opened them back up to look around. His eyes went wide, and he whistled in surprise.

"Nice place you got here."

"Thanks." Hazil swiveled his head to where the voice had come from, and found he was looking at one sitting figure, and one standing. The one standing was a Robot Master.

"So THERE you are!" Hazil harrumphed, making tracks to meet with them. Cossack smiled from his easy chair, waving a frail hand.

"Da, Comrade Hazil. So, you have finally come to our humble Citadel." Hazil nodded, putting his bag on the floor and taking a seat across from Cossack.

"Yep. This is the first chance I've had to get away from HQ…we've been busy. I'll be pretty sleep deprived when I get back." Cossack bowed his head.

"I am sorry we are so much trouble." Hazil baahed the comment and waved his hand.

"Hell, if I wasn't here, I'd more than likely be trying to get bombed outta my skull. These little trips do an aging reploid good. Just grab me whatever you have to drink that isn't alchohol, and point the way to the operating table." Hazil leveled his gaze at Pharaoh Man. "Speaking of which, who's my first customer for a refit?"

Pharoah shrugged.

"Me, of course. The others who volunteered for a refit, Ring Man, Drill Man, Toad Man and Bright Man will arrive as well. But I am their leader, and if I am expected to continue to be, it must be I who goes first." Hazil shrugged.

"Okely dokely then. Cossack, do you have your mitts on any high powered conducting coils and insulated wiring? I'd rather use some of your stuff than introduce any 21XX technology into them...just yet, anyways."

Cossack thought for a moment, then folded his arms.

"I know what you are referring to…the necessary equipment to increase the weapons power grid of my children. But I never got any for them…Still, there is one alternative. My Citadel guardians."

Hazil folded his arms, blinking unsteadily.

"Guardians?" Cossack nodded solemnly. 

"Some of them were designed by Wily…Back when he held my daughter as ransom. While the design ideas were mine at the time, he gave them life, and substantial weapons systems. One in particular was supposed to be nothing more than a containment unit…he turned it into a moving wall of death."

Hazil shrugged.

"That may be all fine and dandy. Still, I don't see how that helps me with your 'bot's refits." Cossack grinned.

"You would be surprised. Come with me." Cossack picked himself up, using a walking stick to totter across the cold cement floor.

Hazil went unsteadily, wondering just what Cossack was referring to.

Finally, stepping in front of a hangar door, Cossack turned to face the reploid and grinned.

"This hangar may have what you need for the refits, Comrade Hazil. Just take a look…scrap what you need. They have not been called upon for forever." Hazil shrugged.

"If they were made by Wily, let's hope that they never will be again." Cossack shrugged.

"Still, their systems have more power than my Robot Master's…and the parts are from the same age. Surely, that should help." Hazil rubbed his hand on his head, then pointed to the door.

"Crack 'er open." Cossack raised a remote control, his eyes once more shining with a glint of excitement after many years. He pressed the button, and waited.

The door slid open slowly, raising itself upwards. Light poured into the darkness, barely revealing the contents. Another button push turned the lights on inside, startling Bright Man. His bulb dimmed as the other light replaced it, and he looked at Cossack inquisitively. Cossack chuckled.

"Bright Man, this is Hazil. He'll be performing your refits." Bright Man took in the data, then blinked in confirmation.

"Shall I assume then that your presence here is to obtain parts from the Guardian Collection?" Hazil nodded, cocking a thumb and forefinger at the Robot Master.

"You're not half dumb." Bright Man gave a half smile.

"I am no dim bulb." Hazil busted a gut at the joke. Sergei Cossack also beamed, finally seeing his creation respond to a new stimuli. Bright Man nodded his head.

"As the chief tour guide for the Citadel's moneymaking operation, my Artificial Intelligence protocols have adapted for human interaction at various levels." Hazil shook his head.

"I'm a reploid…Damn close to human." Bright Man frowned, then let his eyes relax.

"Aah, yes. Reploids, highly advanced robots with Human Emotion and thought processes, plagued by the Maverick Virus and hundreds of incidents of Racism." Hazil sighed.

"It isn't a happy life." Hazil finally turned away from Bright Man, looking at the rest of the bay.

That's when he noticed the giant creations. Five of them, all still as menacing as when Mega Man had destroyed them the first time about back in his heyday.

"Sweet Swirling Onion Rings…" Hazil whistled, stepping back to absorb it all. A giant mothlike robot with a energy focusing crystal, colored pink and almost every color of red. On its tail end was a menacing harpoon. 

Beside it was a solid cube. Cossack pressed a switch, and the giant gray mass lifted itself into the air as the engines activated. The cube separated itself into three parts, sliding apart to reveal an empty interior. Cossack grinned.

"The first one was Melee Moth. The second is what I call The Cage…it traps anyone inside of it and keeps them there." Cossack pointed over to a pair of identical, long legged buglike robots. "Those are the Skeeters…" And finally, Cossack pointed up to a saucer on a long metallic rod, with a menacing pair of pincers on the bottom. "And that is what Mega faced me in. That one Wily called the Falling Hand." 

Hazil gently stepped up to them, letting his hands run over their smooth metallic surfaces.

"These suckers are in GREAT condition…" Bright Man raised a hand.

"You may thank me for that." Cossack pointed with his walking stick to the Moth warbot.

"Melee Moth, The Cage, and The Skeeters all have energy conducting coils, wiring and systems for Weapons Grid enhancements. As to how you will upgrade Drill Man and Toad Man…well, just use whatever parts you need."

Hazil rubbed his hands together, grinning devilishly.

"Let's tear these suckers open." Pharaoh Man raised a hand, forming a ball of bright energy. Throwing the globe, he blasted a hole into the side of a Skeeter robot.

"Go right ahead, Hazil."

Hazil's giggling was huge. He was like a child on Christmas opening the giant present.

Cossack smiled. At long last, his creations would bring positive aid to the world.

"Hello…Cain?" In his office, early in the wee hours of the morning, Cain's desk phone bleeped, and an image flashed up on screen.

Cain jolted himself awake and turned on the image. Stunned, he found it was Hazil, in a lit place that looked like a gigantic hangar.

"Hazil? I thought you took the day off!" Hazil grinned from ear to ear, and raised a welding torch.

"Not quite. Let's just say I'm off, doing a favor for X. An old friend of his has provided me with a challenge." Cain blinked, then widened his eyes.

"Waittaminute…Are you talking about…"

"The good doctor of Mother Russia." Hazil finished. "Don't say anymore, I'm pretty sure the GDC has this line tapped." Cain grunted. 

"Good point. So, why did you call then?" Hazil held up a pair of fingers in a V shape.

"First, I needed to remind you that you need to take some more aspirin. Also, this may take a bit longer than expected. Clear me for tomorrow, and if things get rough down there…" Hazil frowned. "Hell, I can feel it in my tiny finger, boss. Something's gonna happen, and it'll happen soon."

"What do you mean?" Hazil gritted his teeth.

"It feels like how I usually do when Sigma's about to make a reappearance." Cain's hand slapped to the desk, now completely flabbergasted.

"Hell's Bells! Are you telling me that…" Hazil clacked his teeth together.

"I'm saying my limited clairvoyance has never failed me. The fact Wycost was infected again also does something to my perspective." Cain sat back, trying to slow his lightning fast heart rate.

"Yeah. How is Wycost?" Hazil flashed a thumbs up.

"When I left, he was sleeping like a baby, having finally destroyed the Virus." Hazil's face went grim. "But something about what Doan mentioned to me seems to suggest he isn't gonna be the same."

"Wycost? How so?"

"Maybe he'll go off and commit suicide." Cain nearly choked on his spit.

"Be serious!"

"I am, Cain. Dead serious. Wycost's gone through hell and back at LEAST two times now. Maybe more. The simple fact is, only he knows all of his past. The rest of us only know parts to it." Just then, a loud clattering of metals thudding to the ground caused Hazil to tense up and wince.

Whirling his head about, he opened his mouth to tell at some offscreen people.

"Hey Bright, Dive! Stop dropping the Stuff, Will ya?! It still has to WORK when I use it."

"Sorry, Hazil!" Bright Man called back.

"We will pursue excellence in our task from now on." Came Dive Man's deep bass reply. Hazil scratched the back of his head.

"Hell, just keep the equipment from smashing itself to bits."

"Hazil, who are you talking to?" Hazil grinned.

"One of them is just helping out. The other is one of the dipswitches I've been asked to upgrade." Cain harrumphed.

"Well, take care of yourself. When do you expect to get back?" Hazil shrugged.

"Can you hold out until tomorrow?" Cain smiled.

"I think we can manage that. What about Bastion's Armor?" Hazil chortled.

"What, The Angel's Advantage? My computer's working on it…the main body contruction should be done when I get back. A few final twitches of fine tuning, and then we have Bastion give it a test fly." Cain nodded.

"Sounds good. I'll let you get back to work then." Hazil flashed a thumbs up.

"As always." Just then, another loud clang of metal on the hard floor behind him startled Hazil, causing him to groan and slap himself in the face. 

"Will you two BE CAREFUL?!" Hazil screamed behind him.

"SORRY!" Came the reply. Hazil sighed.

"Moronic outdated robots…" The connection blinked out at long last, leaving Cain to fold his hands and grin at his screen.

"Hazil, those outdated robots may yet prove to be humanity's saving grace. Just do your best."

Doan walked out of the Hunter Base's Hangar Bay, quietly biding his time. Visiting Cleo had lifted his usual morose spirits somewhat, but he was still less than pleased. 

Wycost still hadn't woken up yet. Of course, considering what the Bronx Bomber had gone through in the past few days, it was no wonder he wasn't up yet. Still…

"Cause for alarm." Doan said softly. 

The hallways of the Hunter base, designed to take him in a giant loop until he entered a doorway seemed to span out forever in front of his eyes. And that suited his purposes.'

Doan wanted some time to clear his thoughts. And most people left him alone. About the same as they did Wycost…

"Correction." Doan mumbled to himself. "Like they USED to do with Wycost." Now that the majority of the Hunters were clued in that Wycost had gone maverick, at least recently (Thank goodness no one suspected he had been one before, Doan thought with grim irony) there would be a lot of angry faces to look at him.

Doubtful Wycost could carry out the same task in life he had before.

"Considering his recent mental combat, I don't think that's what he'd be up to doing anyhow." 

A wandering reploid in the halls of HQ talking to himself drew few sidelong glances. Most were usually self absorbed.

When death was a daily possibility in the final line of defense, some measure of solitude was kept with all.

Still, Doan could see many things as he walked about. Quietly opening Cain's door, he could see their aged and beloved human leader quietly humming to himself, while playing with an outdated handheld video game device from the early 21st Century.

Shutting the door behind him and moving on, Doan plodded on, one Hunter among many.

Some were not as skillful as him…

The first big mission would end their lives.

But there were some like him, that had lived by skill, luck and sheer grit. Those were the ones that stood a chance of success.

Doan stopped in front of another door. This one led to the Medical Bay. And that's where he had left Wycost yesterday. 

Doan decided he would check up on the twit again. 

The door to the Medical Bay was locked, Doan found with a glare. But it responded to his voiceprint perfectly, opening itself up to him.

"Hazil must have realized I'm one of the few people that isn't going to end his life here." Doan muttered as he slipped inside. The door shut behind him with a hiss of hydraulics, and the lights inside turned on automatically.

Wycost still looked exhausted. Doan walked over and gently shook Wycost's shoulders.

"Hey, Wycost. WYCOST, you hearing me?" Doan bit his tongue and thought of another answer.

A slight grin crossed his face, ever so slight. Doan lightly tapped his feet, remembering an occasion long ago…back when he and Wycost were both still in New York, before the First Maverick Uprising had even begun in Japan.

That had been after Doan's first taste of combat. He had survived, even though his Buster's power rating was pitiful. More by luck than anything, Doan thought wryly.

After that incident, the grimfaced Wycost had sighed and pulled his helmet off, looking up into the gray murky clouds above. Then he'd turned to Doan with doused eyes and nodded, saying simply,

"Let's go get a drink, Doan."

Doan and Wycost had been in the Bar at a far corner of New York for some time now. Wycost had rubbed the stubble on his chin after the bloody fight, sighed and slammed Doan on the back.

"Come on Doan." Wycost had said. "Let's get you drunk."

That had been a while back, hours ago.

"Hey Wygost..." Doan slurred, hiccoughing before taking down another drink. Doan gazed into his drink, not sure what to make of the frothy concoction in front of him.

Wycost looked at him through blurry and unresponsive optics.

"Yeurrahh?"

"Why did you (HIC!) become a cop?" Wycost took a huge swig from his frosty tankard before slamming it back down onto the wooden bench. The bartender on duty winced, but said nothing. Wycost was a regular, and he paid tips well enough.

Wycost wiped the froth of the import German lager from his chin and smiled.

Wycost looked back at his newly-found (and very drunk) friend, trying to focus on the pinkish blur in front of him.

"Weaayll Doan, I thought I might try to do something worthwhile with my time..." Wycost slammed his fist on the counter. "Bartender! Gimme another rouund..." Wycost's speech was becoming less concise with each swig.

Doan jumped, his system not used to the rather strong liquor. The slightly balding human sighed, then picked up Wycost's glass and reached over to fill it back up.

Wycost continued on, almost oblivious to the fresh drink placed beside him as his arms waved about. He nearly knocked it over, but avoided calamity.

Doan looked back at the greenish blur, and tried to focus. No luck.

"Whuh?"

"Heeere I was, thinking to myself, ya know? What other profession can you have, in whi whi whiiich...*Hic* ya get to lug around a Buster and play police man?"

If Doan had known (and heard) the comment from the human next to him, he would have laughed. "Drunk as a friggin; skunk..." Instead, he just looked at Wycost with a sloppy grin.

"Ahh... I see..." Doan flailed a hand around in the air, mimicking Wycost's more controlled movements. "Well, I have a buster, an' I shoot stuff... (HIC!) An... an... uhh..."

Doan's scattered positronic brain struggled to keep his train of thought. "And.. I saved your butt! So there!" With that, he brought his fist down on the bar. The bartender looked at the silver reploid, sighed, and put down another drink.

Doan looked at the new glass, not quite sure why it was there, but drank it anyway.

Doan sputtered it out quickly as soon as one swig was in his mouth.

"Wha the hee*ic* is in this?" Wycost slammed his tankard back to the counter from another huge gulp and lazily grinned through one eye.

"Weeyll...Doan, that's the house specialty. I helped make it, too."

"That's great and all, but just what's...what was I saying?" Doan stuttered incoherently.

Wycost guffawed, then shook his head.

"I call it the Irish Banshee...because once ya drink it, you'll swear the angel of death's howling at yer....*Hic* back..."

Doan pushed the mug away, finally giving into reason.

"Thanks for telling me." Wycost raised a hand, then dropped it back down again.

"Aah...good liquor always puts me in the mood for a SEA SHANTIE..." Doan frowned.

"Sea Shantie?" Wycost nodded, stumbling to his feet.

"Come on! Just join in when you get the feel for it." Wycost raised his voice so everyone in the bar could hear him.

"Hey, EVERYONE! Ma...ma...me and my Friend..." Wycost blinked and looked over to the grayish blur beside him...

"Eeh, what's yer name again?" The drunk gray reploid beside him hiccoughed and blinked oddly. 

"It might be Doan..." Smacking himself in the face, Doan restored some order to his brain. "Ehh... Yeah, it's Doan... I think..."

"MY FRIEND DOAN..." Wycost bellowed loudly..."Me and my friend Doan here are gonna sing you all a little Sea Shantie...In the ways of my Irish forefathers, and how they did it, and how their ancestors did it before them, all the way back to when the first Irish monkey scratched himself..." Doan shook his head, grinning...

"I don't like this..." 

But at long last, silence overcame the bar, and all eyes turned to the pair of REALLY drunk reploids.

Wycost took in a deep breath, coughing a bit before gaining enough muster to start up. Wycost's feet stamped back and forth, providing a stumbling rythmn. A sound started in the base of his throat, then raised to a low growl. A few patrons in the bar began to tap their feet along with the rather bad rythym.

"Oooh...Where do ya go when you're pissed outta your gourd?"

Doan stepped in, finally realizing what Wycost was getting it.

"Where do ya go when you're rusting your sword?" Wycost stepped in, replacing Doan's unsteady voice.

"You go where the women and wine are the same, you go where all the other schmucks know yer name..."

"THE BAR! THE BAR! It ain't too damn far! Just sober on up and get in the car!" Doan's conclusion seemed out of place to the shantie, but Wycost was on a roll, and he was stopping for nothing.

"What's better to go is a land far away, where the drinks are free and the night is the day..." By now, many more of the patrons had joined in, clapping and tapping their feet.

"THE BAR! THE BAR! It's really not far! Just grab yer damn keys and don't crash your car!"

"So drink up me hearties, and sail on the sea, for when you get back your cup won't be filled with tea..."

"...And when you are there, far from your home, just think of the women, and don't go it alone!"

With that, the entire bar erupted into raucous laughter and applause. But Wycost took one final swig of his drink, and pounded his chest. There was one final verse to be sung.

"Be with yer pallies, yer chums and yer mates! Keep it in mind that danger never abates! A keen eye and keen mind will take you so far, for the rest of the way, look to a star!" The bar's applause grew louder, and even Doan nodded in acknowledgement. For all the gruffishness in Wycost's demeanor, he held abilities one would not expect.

Wycost was truly a diamond in the rough.

Doan remembered that Sea Shantie well. He also remembered the less than happy expressions on his family's faces when Wycost dragged him back, piss drunk and mumbling insanely. It was one of those moments Doan knew Wycost would have remembered. Perhaps a little help would pull him out of his sleep.

"The Bar, the Bar, it ain't very far…" Doan whistled softly, tapping on Wycost's hand the rythmn they had used that night.

As if by magic, Wycost's eyes slid open, and his mouth finished the tune.

"Just sober up and don't crash your car…" 

A corner of Doan's mouth twinged into a smile, and his eyes seemed to sparkle into life at that moment.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Wycost." Wycost didn't respond right away…

His own eyes still looked dead. Wycost pulled himself to his feet, slowly, as if pushing his body through thick water.

"You all may be living, Doan. I feel dead inside." Wycost said calmly. Doan sighed.

"The fire's gone out of your eyes, I could see that when you completed the Virus self deletion. Just what happened in that mind of yours to cause that?" 

Wycost looked at Doan, his eyes dim and sad.

"I don't think you want to know, Doan." Doan clicked his teeth together, folding his arms.

"If I wanted to, I could knock you out and just find out by using Revenant." Wycost nodded, the fire not restoring themselves.

"You're either trying to restore my fighting spirit, or you're being serious. Either way Doan, you failed." Wycost kicked himself off the Medical Bed, shaking his head ahead. "Doan, you're one of the few friends I have now that isn't dead. I went through HELL in my head to get rid of the Virus…I'm tired of fighting." Wycost looked away. "I'm tired of only causing death." 

Doan shrugged, sitting across from his friend.

"It's a choice none of us like to make…Maybe Zero's the exception. We're Hunters for a reason, Wycost. We want to keep the world safe."

Wycost rolled his tongue around in his mouth. He checked his Buster, then satisfied it was still working, he walked over to Hazil's computer.

"Computer." Wycost said calmly. It chirped in response. "Bring up design schematics for Wycost's Helmet, designation Green Three Salem." The computer acknowledged, the screen flashing yellow for a brief moment before finally activating a 3-D model of Wycost's helmet.

Wycost frowned.

"It needs more…Much more." Doan frowned.

What, your helmet?" Wycost nodded.

"I may be sick of dealing death…but there's one final foe to face before I leave." That sentence sent chills down Doan's back, for he knew who the green Hunter was referring to.

"You mean…"

"Yes." Wycost said. He then blinked and looked up at Doan in surprise. "You know?" Doan shrugged.

"Let's just say I've seen your messed up mind once already. Another trip isn't my priority." Wycost grunted, turning back around.

"Did you see yourself?" Doan shook his head.

"I saw a lot of things…it always comes like a flood. But yes, I did see me." Wycost held his stoic pose as he examined the schematic.

"Times have changed, haven't they Doan?" Wycost finally said quietly. Doan nodded, grunting in response. "Who would have ever thought a pair of New York bums like us would be called on to be the world's saviors?" Doan snorted.

"I never wanted to be a hero." Wycost clicked the mouse and shrugged.

"You're an unsung hero, then. Like me…almost everyone knows about Mega Man X, and Zero Omega. Few look beyond them."

"That's a shame." 

"Yeah…it also keeps people from bothering us. Serves my purposes well enough." Doan walked over beside Wycost and put a steady hand on the side of Wycost's chair.

"So what are you doing with your Helmet schematics?" Wycost shrugged.

"Adding on. The last time I faced him, I was outgunned. This time…it'll be different." Wycost shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them.

The fire was gone. The untamed fire from his spirit. 

But now there was electricity that crackled in his veins. Electricity of purpose.

"Computer, add in Infared and X-Ray Scanners into the optic Control Chip goggle system."

"Acknowledged. Any further requests?" Wycost thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Is it possible to give the Helmet a long range communication and Frequency Interdictor system?" The computer whirred for a moment, then chirped out its response.

"Affirmative. Shall I include that as well?"

"Yes. Now, remodulate the Helmet and execute synthesizing protocols." 

"Acknowledged. Please note that the Interdictor function of the Helmet is based on personal memorandum of Wycost, and cannot be confirmed for effectiveness."

In a flash of teleportation, Wycost's green headpiece vanished from his skull, letting the black raven hair fall down and glare in the overhead lights.

Wycost never turned around to face Doan, patiently waiting for the computer to finish.

A minute later, the hatch to the synthesizer machine in the Bay blinked, and slid open.

Inside was Wycost's new helmet.

Doan noted it didn't look too different from before. About the only cosmetic variance was on the left side where the vent would have been. Now it was covered by a black square, with rounded edges and a small opening at the top right.

Wycost plucked the headgear from where it had been made, then slipped it back on his head.

"A snug fit." Wycost said quietly. Turning about, he looked at Doan with dead eyes.

There was absolutely no emotion in them. It scared Doan for a moment to see Wycost like that, but thankfully the Hunter activated his goggles and brought the black control chip covers down over his eyes.

Inside the helmet, Wycost ran through a complete check of his new equipment.

"Infared…check. X-Ray…Doan, you might want to have Hazil check on your left arm main servomotor there…" Doan blinked in stunned disbelief, looking at his arm. Wycost rambled on, continuing to check his systems.

"Interdictor Frequency 3 function…" Wycost's helmet suddenly sprouted a small but powerful antenna from the black box on his helmet's side. Wycost grunted in satisfaction. "Check."

Doan folded his arms, unsure.

"Interdictor Frequency Gear? I don't recall that in any of our experimental stuff!" Wycost shrugged.

"The computer said it picked it up from my personal data. Some of it is from URFAWP, some of it is from back during the Fifth Uprising." Doan's eyes clouded over.

"When you were maverick."

"One of the times I was, yes." Wycost said resignedly. He flipped the goggles back up into his helmet.

"There's one fight left for me to take part in, Doan. A good friend of mine was killed because of him…this time, he pays the piper." Doan blinked.

"It sounds like the fire's returned."

"Negative." Wycost said, shutting his Buster off. "The fire died out a day ago. All I'm running on now is the smoke." 

It was an explosion and the Hunter's klaxon alarm that brought the two back to their senses. Even as the ground shook underneath them, Doan found the time to frown.

"What was that?" Wycost's headgear activated again as he hacked into the HQ's alarm system.

It only took a fraction of a second to find the answer.

"Detention Block, Doan. It seems the mystery reploids Allegro and Andante that Zero and Bastion hauled in have escaped…" Wycost frowned.

"Gavin, Jad and Kol were with them. Are they new?" Doan nodded.

"Bastion calls them the trio. They showed up just after you left." Wycost sighed.

"If they're still alive, they're damn lucky, or those two reploids aren't interested in them." 

Doan's mind suddenly filled with a frightening possibility.

"Enujii…" Doan muttered softly. "You're right, Wycost. They're not planning to bust out of the HQ just yet…"

"Lemme guess. They have a victim in mind." 

"We gotta find Horn, NOW."


	16. Outbreak

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: OUTBREAK

"Almost…almost…" Hazil's grunting was loud, even as he looked through bloodshot eyes. "THERE." Brushing the sweat off of his forehead, he looked down on the table in front of him.

Drill Man, the last Robot Master who had recruited for upgrades was lying below, silently examining his stats.

Unlike the others, Hazil had opted to leave his power core alone, instead focusing on improving the strength of his armor and drills. The bombs naturally were more powerful because of the shrapnel effect they would create with the stronger metals, some scrapped from the Melee Moth and the rest created by Hazil's portable Replicator.

He shut the chest compartment of Drill Man shut with a definitive snap, then made sure the armor was still working. Hazil nodded, blinking sleepily.

"Thank the good Bub above you guys aren't as complex as Rockman…I wouldn't like to do HIM…and you're tough enough as is." Hazil stepped back and nodded to Sergei Cossack. "All right, Doc. LIGHT 'ER UP!"

Cossack used his ever present remote control, and pushing a button reactivated Drill Man's primary systems.

The eyes flickered to life on the comical half head, most of it replaced by the giant drill bit atop of it. It raised its arms for a moment, unsure of itself. Then it checked its self scans, announcing the outcomes to his audience.

"Drill Synthesizing systems have been improved indirectly with local equipment. New alloy…accepted. Primary systems running at full power, medical repair systems at full power." Drill Man blinked. "This unit is now operational for combat duty."

Hazil clapped his hands together.

"IT WORKED." Hazil said, his eyes glittering with pride. Cossack laughed and waved his hand.

"Hazil, let it be said by me first that you are a true genius in the ways of robotics." Hazil scratched the back of his head.

"It wasn't no backyard accomplishment. So where's the rest of our merry band?"

"Right here." Hazil and Cossack turned to see the other improved Robot Masters walking towards them. Pharaoh Man was smiling, something that Hazil found odd.

"Hey Pharaoh, what's with the grin?" Pharaoh shrugged.

"Considering the jubilation you and our master express, it seemed most prudent on my human interaction protocols." Hazil snorted.

"Hell son, you coulda just said you FELT LIKE IT." Pharaoh shrugged.

"You say potato, I say potahto." Pharaoh motioned to Drill Man. "Drill Man, are you fully operational?" Drill Man lifted an arm.

"All systems are nominal, Pharaoh Man." Pharaoh nodded.

"Good."

As Drill Man walked over to join the rest of his group, Hazil watched them all. Cossack's children…and Hazil's charges.

Pharaoh Man was one of the more traditional to fix up. Once Hazil had installed a larger supercoil for his Weapons Matrix, it was a simple matter to up the power of his specialized plasma/laser hybrid tenfold without problems. The Cage, as Cossack called it had been an ample source of new body armor for Pharaoh Man, who now had a glittering shade of silvery gray over the black, and even his goldenrod mainstay had been altered to some degree by the new means of protection.

Ring Man, back when he was pitted against Mega Man, was a formidable foe. All the Robot Masters who had recruited had excellent jumping abilities--save Drill Man, but with his burrowing techniques, they weren't needed that much. Ring Man was much like Drill Man. All it had taken was an upgrade in body armor, and a higher model of dense metal alloy for his Ring Boomerang synthesizers. Going out on a limb, Hazil had also programmed a diagnostic scanner into Ring Man's helmetlike headgear.

Bright Man had been the most trouble. While improving his plasma cannon was no different from Pharaoh's operation, Hazil found it a great pain to try and create a new bulb on the top of his head. In a move of desperation, Hazil had yanked a super-conducting Coil from one of the Skeeters and twisted it into a filament. Taking a new bulb and inserting it into position, Hazil had borrowed Dust Man to create the necessary vacuum for it. A long process, and one filled with uncertainties. However, a test demonstration of the bulb afterwards showed it worked.

Hazil had been blinded and disoriented for fifteen minutes.

Toad Man was one of the quirkier designs Hazil had ever had to work with. Once more, an armor improvement was used, although he had the greatest leaping abilities of any of the Robot Masters. Unlike any of the others, he didn't have projectile weapons or energy weapons. Instead, Toad Man had informed Hazil with a total lack of emotion that back when Wily reconverted him to fight against Mega Man, his main attacks were to try and land his heavy body onto the Bomber, and to launch pods up into the air that would coerce innocent air molecules to form into a cloud and rain down a powerful acid rain.

So, by a brilliant use of insight, Hazil had used Cossack's powerful, but outdated computer network to surf the internet and pull out the latest scientific research on advanced corrosives. 

The downside was that with such a powerful rainmaker, it was possible that the other Robot Masters on the team might be affected as well. So Hazil had taken an extra step and altered the design from rainmaker, to low level dispersal pods with the acid already stored inside.

"Like a fraggin' acid grenade."

Hazil brought himself back to reality.

They DID look like a team, he noted. 

"So what are you going to call yourselves?" Hazil grumbled. "If you use your names now, people are gonna get wise. Shoot, just the simple fact you're walking about kind of pins the source on this Citadel." Pharaoh Man shrugged.

"Then I guess we work outside of the public eye. As for our name…" Pharaoh Man looked at his four followers and shrugged. "I was thinking a prime name for us all would be…The Foregone Five." Hazil blinked, blown down by the genius within its simplicity.

"Geez, Phare…" Hazil whistled. "THAT'S PERFECT." Cossack nodded.

"DA! Phare, that is a good name."

Just then, Hazil's comm began to wail in a klaxonlike fashion, and Hazil's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, CRUD." Hazil pulled the comm out, and Cossack raised a hand.

"What is that, Hazil?" Hazil shrugged.

"It's my comm to the Hunters. It would only ring under two things. Another Uprising's begun…or there's trouble back at base." Listening in to the broadcast, Hazil sighed.

"It's the second. Cossack, I gotta get going. If anything comes up, I have your number. Pharaoh, are your teleportation systems working perfectly?" Pharaoh nodded.

"All Robot Masters present have fully functional teleportation systems. Just go back to where they need you, Hazil. You've done enough for us today."

"If there's a call for action, I'll give you a call." 

Pharaoh nodded.

"We'll be waiting." 

With that, Hazil activated his teleportation matrix, vanishing in a ball of white hot fire rising up through the roof and through the ground into the air, before turning and making tracks towards Tokyo, Japan…

To the Maverick Hunter HQ.

Back in Washington D.C, Emilius Cristoph was wasting no time in making his presence known.

Arriving in a huff back from the most recent meeting of the GDC at the Hague, the elderly white haired man was sour, as usual.

Once more, his viewpoints had been shot down by the others members.

"Too radical…too racist." Cristoph growled. "Those fools…If this planet's to survive, we must eliminate all reploids. ALL OF THEM." He was walking down Pennsylvania Avenue, passing in front of the White House, unchanged since its reconstruction in the early 1800's. 

But then, familiar faces began to appear. Cristoph's scowl vanished, instantly replaced by a gentle smile of an old man.

"I say! Is that Emilius Cristoph walking down our fair city streets?" Cristoph grinned wider at the oncoming pair of voices.

"Senator Johnson, Senator Kelly!" Cristoph laughed falsely. The three men shook hands, slapping each other.

Senator Johnson, a well built African American man was warmly dressed in a designer coat, his handgrip firm.

"So how is the GDC coming along these days?" Johnson asked. Cristoph sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you know how it is. Some people are still accusing me of being racist against reploids." Johnson frowned.

"Oh, come on. Be serious, man! We've all seen what the reploids have amounted to: Mavericks. I believe you, Cristoph. They are a menace…and it's your job in the GDC to make them see that." Cristoph shrugged.

"I'll try." Cristoph smiled again. "So tell me, where's the best place to eat around here? I've been gone a while." Senator Kelly raised his hand, letting his thick Irish Accent carry over the Frigid November air.

"Oh, that'd have to be Patty O'Malley's Yardarm!" Cristoph clapped his hands together.

"Splendid! Are you paying?" Kelly sighed.

"It's a small price to get some good Haggis. AYE!" 

The three powerful political men made tracks towards the forementioned eating estabilishment.

Now, there was a new kind of prejudice in the world. Reploid prejudice.

And it was much worse than human conflicts of the past.

No one would have ever thought about bringing genocide to colored human beings.

Reploids…mere robots, however…

Well, that's a different matter.

"Are the reploid synthesizers completed?" Sigma asked, his frowning face looking down on his cohort down below. The cackling maverick nodded.

"Almost, Sigma. If you wanted to, you could go and inhabit your new body now." Sigma nodded.

"I have been cramped for far too long. Let it be so." The Maverick below him nodded, the red eyes flashing for a brief moment.

Ten feet away, inside one of the six synthesizing chambers bubbling angrily, a metallic behemoth slept.

As Sigma's face vanished from the screen, the giant in his container opened his eyes. The bushy tailed maverick nodded for a moment, then removed the matter making liquid from the tube. With the fluid gone, Sigma gently pushed a button on the inside, causing a side of the capsule to slide down and allow him to walk out.

The new seven foot tall body was well built.

It was an exact replica of the body Sigma had used during the Fourth Maverick Uprising…and so far, it was the deadliest one Sigma had ever used. Equipped with eyebeam superlasers, temporary hoversystems, gravity repellant shoulder homing blades with regenerative capability, and perhaps most grating, a beam scythe, capable of emitting powerful ground crawling electrical bursts.

X had found it very difficult to face Sigma in this form. It was too bad that Sigma's secondary, more deadly bodies were restricted to base for their drastic power needs.

For his explosive entrance back into the playing field however, this would suit him fine.

Sigma flexed his hands, finally grinning. 

"This pleases me." Sigma said, with that superior tone of sinister intentions in his voice. He looked over to the cackling maverick who had kept him alive for a year and nodded.

"Ferret, you have done me…done us all a great service. Were it not for you, I would have perished…and the Mavericks would be no more." 

The maverick finally fully revealed himself into the light.

With a six foot tall body, he was about as imposing as Zero. However, the power lay in his hands and face.

The whiplike tail served to balance his finely tuned wire thin body. Like a giant sinew, the maverick stood calmly. His claws were primed out, serving as his hands all of the time. With their TitaniTefloalloy construction, he was capable of batting away plasma shots with ease before rushing in with lightning speed for the close kill. And if that failed, his powerful jaws, perfectly mimicking the viselike grip of his animalian cousins could latch on to a foe, refusing to let go as their lifeblood drained away. It was this function that had allowed this one particular maverick to almost kill Commander X during the Fifth Uprising.

It had been Bastion who had saved that troublesome Hunter's life that day. By an incredible stroke of luck, the new Hunter had smashed through the side of their combat chamber with a Chimera Mech, slamming the Ferret maverick into the wall and knocking him out cold.

"It is my duty, Sigma. I am your servant." Sigma nodded.

"You are one of my most loyal then, Fluid Ferret. More so than that fool Vile…even if he did die protecting me."

"Darn tootin. So…" Ferret flashed his powerful serrated teeth. "When do we get the ball rolling?"

Sigma flexed his hands again.

"It will still be a while until the other Maverick Generals are finished being constructed. Another six hours from now, I would say we'll be ready."

Fluid Ferret smashed his teeth together, shaking his head.

"A lot can happen in six hours." Sigma nodded.

"We had best make the most of our time. Are the transports ready?" Ferret nodded, grinning. 

"I sent out the psychic signal a while back. The reploids I infected with the low level servant Virus are now taking actions to ready the transports. It will only take a transport of a Maverick General with the Berserker Maverick Virus to complete the transition and give us our armies." 

"Military depots have been spotted along the way for armament?" Ferret nodded.

"Perhaps humanity's greatest contribution to their own downfall is countries continuing to fight amongst themselves while we threaten to kill them all." Sigma grinned evilly.

"So true." Sigma began to cackle, growing louder all the time. "And so the scourge is resurrected…"

Ferret joined in the laughter.

Hundreds of feet underneath the ground, no one above could hear them.

But the Mavericks were back.

And they had returned with a vengeance.

"BLAST! Where would Horn be?" Doan grumbled, as he and Wycost charged through the hallways. It was five seconds since Wycost had chillingly announced that the leader of URFAWP was the target for the two escaped reploids, Allegro and Andante.

As they passed by the detention block, Wycost skidded to a halt to take a quick look inside. He frowned at what he saw.

"Hey Doan! Are these guys the Trio I keep hearing about?" Doan paused in mid-dash and reversed himself, taking a look inside the door that had been blown out by the escapees. The grim gray reploid nodded.

The three half dead figures inside, all knocked into stasis by some kind of blow were indeed Jad, Kol and Gavin of the 21st. Wycost chirped his teeth, then shook his head.

"No time to worry about them just now. We have to catch up to our fugitives…and Horn as well." Wycost turned himself about, his scanning goggles lowered over his eyeballs.

He was stopped dead in his tracks by five X-Busters pointed at his chest. Doan's face went deadpan at the sight.

Wycost just blinked. Five angry Hunters growling at him was an imposing threat, but Wycost was past caring about his own life anymore. As far as he was concerned, if they shot him dead, it was no big loss.

"Well?" Wycost shrugged. "Are you going to shoot me, or stand aside?" One particularly vicious Hunter began to charge up his Buster, letting the whine fill the air.

"If you so much as BLINK, I'm gonna frag your traitorous carcass." Wycost returned the glare, folding his arms.

"Traitorous? Listen bub. As we SPEAK, those two new reploids Bastion and Zero picked up on Horn's island are off playing hide and go slag with the unknowing J.K. Horn. I plan to stop them. And right now, you have two options. Step out of my way and let me go save his hide, or I force my way through you all." Doan clacked his teeth together, backing away slightly.

"Wycost…" Doan said through clenched teeth. "This isn't exactly how we score brownie points…" 

"HOLD IT!" A thundering voice suddenly echoed through the hallway, shattering the tense situation.

Wycost, Doan and the ringleader of the Hunter squad in front of them turned their heads about to spy Mega Man X running down the hallway, his face flustered. Wycost grunted.

"Joy. If it isn't the Blueboy." Wycost raised an arm. "Hey X, would ya mind explaining to these second rate putzes I have a job to do?"

X held back a few paces and shook his head.

"Tell me what you're doing up and around, and why you're here at the scene of the crime." Wycost held his tongue in check, grasping for words.

"X, I don't have time for this! But seeing as every trigger happy Wycost hater in this place would be more than happy to blow me away, I'll tell you. Inside is the aftermath of Allegro and Andante's escape. The Trio is stunned, but they'll live. As I stand here USELESS, J.K. Horn is about to taste death from the furious beam staffs of Allegro and Andante. SO…ARE YOU GONNA LET ME THROUGH?" 

The other Hunters still held their Busters leveled at him. But finally X nodded, abdicating the truth in Wycost's words.

"Go. Go save Horn." Wycost grunted in response, then activated his thrusters.

The few Hunters who didn't move aside fast enough soon found themselves eating the floor, knocked down by his burst of speed.

Doan took off in hot pursuit of his mean green ally, leaving X to wonder just what the Hell was going on.

He activated his comm.

"Zero, Bastion!" 

"Yeah?"

"Whassup, X?" X frowned.

"Wycost's up and about. He says that the escapees are planning to end J.K. Horn's life. Mobilize and keep an eye ready." X shut off the comm, stepping inside the ruined detention block.

Checking the Trio, X nodded. 

"Wycost was right. They'll be just fine. A few bumps and bruises wiser, but no worse for the wear." X stood up, glaring.

"I just hope I did the right thing letting Wycost go." He shrugged, turning to face the grimacing Hunters walking in to secure the area.

Either way, Wycost wasn't alone. Doan was with him…

And Doan wouldn't let anything bad happen.

When the initial rumble of Allegro and Andante's escape, caused by Allegro's hidden explosive charges was made audible through the entire Tokyo HQ, J.K. Horn was walking along the hallways, moving towards the general direction of the Training Facility.

Two seconds after the beginning bang, Horn was picking himself up off of the floor, wondering what the Hell had just happened.

Five seconds after that, as unarmed Hunters all around him tried to no avail to seek an answer through their comm systems, which were all busy, J.K. Horn suddenly heard a blood curdling cry reach his ears, a pair of ragged screams that he knew.

"Oh no…" Horn said gravely. "The twins…THEY'RE FREE!" And within himself, Horn knew that they only wanted one thing.

His death. For reasons unknown to him, but suspected by everyone else, he was a target in their deadly game. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He ran. He ran in the opposite direction from where the pair of cries had emanated from, in an attempt to avoid their wrath.

Of course, when Hunters are buzzing about, unsure of what's happened and growing more paranoid by the minute, one's speed decreases greatly. Horn cursed himself for not having some form of an emergency accelerator system like dash thrusters. 

"HORN!" A powerful, booming and ANGRY voice rang through the air, causing the aforementioned reploid to skip over a cycle in fear.

Horn sped up, slamming through wave after wave of Hunters. There was only one escape for him now.

"Hopefully the hangar isn't locked down…" Horn said raggedly as he pounded down the hallway.

"THERE HE IS, BRO!" Horn winced as he heard the voice. Turning his head, he saw his worst fear.

Allegro, thrusters providing full thrust down the hallway, was smashing his way through the Hunters, most of whom had plastered their bodies against the wall to avoid the duo. Close behind was the larger, more docile of the twins, Andante.

But both of them were homed in. Horn turned his head back around and finally saw hope.

"The Hangar Doors…" Horn slammed it open quickly, his frenzied eyes looking for hope.

There were five hovercycles out and ready. Horn chose the nearest and wasted no time in activating it. Repulsors lifted the metal skimmer off the ground, showing what made this a hovercycle. On a thin layer of air, Horn revved the motor up and charged away.

The hangar door had finished shutting itself as he had run in, a part of the emergency response caused by the twin's outbreak. Horn gritted his teeth and pushed the thumb trigger for the hidden plasma cannon in the nose of the craft.

Thankfully, the trio of blasts the nose cannon fired blew the garage exit to smoking shreds, allowing Horn escape.

Allegro and Andante sliced the hangar door open as they came in with their beam staffs, then seeing Horn's vapor trail as he blasted out, also quickly hopped on to two more of the cycles.

"Come on, bro!" Allegro growled, his eyes narrowed. "This time, the snake shall die!"

"And with him the venemous infection…" Andante said. They gunned their engines, flying out of the hangar as quickly as they had entered.

Horn had a head start on them.

Five seconds later, the empty and smoking hangar received its third unwelcome set of visitors, as Wycost and Doan barreled in.

Wycost's eyes narrowed at the damage, and he had to shut them for a moment. 

The destruction…such useless destruction. Doan hopped on a cycle and kicked its power on. The grayish reploid turned in stony annoyance to his green comrade and jerked his helmeted head.

"Camaaahhn!! They're way ahead of us!" Wycost flexed his powerful hands into and out of fists, then he opened his eyes and nodded.

"Just one more mission…" Wycost breathed. He hopped onto the final cycle and followed Doan's huge dust trail.

There was to be a reckoning soon.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!" Cain bellowed, his cherubic features a bright shade of newborn baby pink. The varicose vein in his forehead pulsated angrily as his comm spritzed and fried. Finally, a voice of reason came on the line.

"X here. The Trio is stunned, but they'll be all right. Gavin came to a bit ago, and he said that the twins Allegro and Andante had concealed Electromagnetic Pulse Emitters in their chest compartments. Seems that our scanning technology isn't as wonderful as we think it is." Cain bared his teeth. 

"Keep me posted."

"Hey, this is Bastion!" Another voice came on the line, somewhat less controlled. "I'm in the Medical Bay with Bristol. I've picked up Hazil's incoming warp transmitter signal, and he's still two minutes out, but coming in like a bat outta Hell. The Bay's ready for wounded, if we have any." Cain nodded.

"Zero?" Cain queried. 

"Yeah, my great captain Fogey?" Zero grunted, chittering his own comm into life. Cain grimaced.

"Knock the crap off and give it to me straight, Zero!" Zero snorted.

"Fine. Undiluted, Allegro and Andante made with all speed out of the detention block in a direct line around the HQ. The only injuries to the Hunters were those who weren't smart enough to move out of their way. I keep hearing that they were yelling Horn's name, and once they'd found him they kept a direct bead."

"Where did they go?" Cain asked raggedly, not wanting to ask if Horn was dead now. Zero drew in a breath and frowned from his end of the line.

"Well, all I had to do was follow the broken china, because those three booked it out of here like a bull in the flatware shop. Horn had some sense in him, because he headed to the hangar. After swiping one of our cycles, he blew his way out of the metallic bay doors and is somewhere zooming around Tokyo's exterior Highway System as we speak. Allegro and Andante followed him as well. However, there's one good piece of info to this." Cain felt like slamming his head into his desk.

"Oh, really? Just what makes this a good thing?" Zero harrumphed.

"After X defused their imminent situation, Wycost and Doan booked it to the same locale, hopped on the final two cycles and are now chasing after those three. Downside: We can't follow them."

"Correction: YOU CAN'T." Bristol suddenly chittered in with a voice between worry and eagerness. Don't forget that Bastion has a new Flight Armor almost ready for him." Zero snorted.

"Flyboy, you serious? Do you think you can catch up to them?" Bastion coughed for a moment, then shrugged on his end of the commlines.

"Zero, I'd consider it a test fly of this sucker. Bristol, is it ready?" Bristol sucked on a paperclip, frowning a bit.

"Almost. We just need Hazil to pull it out of the replicator and hook it up to the underside of your saber recharger pack." 

"Right where the Powerstorm went…" Bastion mused thoughtfully. He shook himself out of it.

"When is Hazil planning to get back again?"

Even Cain could hear the distinctive 'ziiing' of an incoming warp signal land in the Medical Bay. Bristol gasped in shock for a moment, and even Bastion let out a grunt of surprise, reaching for his beam sabers.

Hazil blinked at what he saw.

"Woah, hold on there big slugger. It's just me." Bastion let his hands drop away from his sabers and frowned.

"Hazil, I need you to get my new Flight Armor operational…NOW." Hazil blinked for a moment, then pushed the question he thought up out of his mind. 

Speed was of the essence.

Putting everything else unimportant to his current task out of his primary thought patterns, Hazil set to work, pounding away on his keyboard.

The nearby replicators acknowledged the command, and set to work building the Flight Armor with little fuss.

It took thirty seconds, thanks to the intricacy of the microcircuitry and backup systems in the suit.

But when Hazil pulled it out of the constructor pod and held it aloft, Bastion found himself grinning again. 

His wings were back. Hazil turned Bastion around, then activated the magnetic clamps on the back of the Armor's encasement pack. Enclosed in this smoothlined, tapering squarish rectangle lied the wings and the main brain of the very suit itself. This was why the encasement pack was heavily armored, able to deflect everything from depleted uranium slugs to Firebursts to electrical blasts to plasma supershots with ease. 

Hazil connected the pack to the small of Bastion's back, and felt it tug into place right underneath the saber recharger port, being pulled into place. Hazil grinned. That was the streamlined design again, and he loved it.

This particular Flight Armor design was unique, for it was designed specifically for Bastion, and only his back body construct would fit it. In that respect, it was like giving Bastion a pair of custom built hands.

Hazil stepped back, pulling out a remote control and pushing a red button in the corner of it.

Bastion's new wings slid out like a pair of razor blades. And with the remarkably thin width and the way the necessary metals for the Electromagnetic Repulsion effect were reflective, they also shone brightly, almost blinding the good doctor.

"Shiznits and fluffernutters!" Hazil winced, covering his eyes. "Bastion, if this thing wasn't deadly enough, now you're gonna be giving people sunglare. They might mistake you as a UFO under bizarre conditions." Bastion activated his connection to the Wing's subsystems, bringing up the command and diagnostic menu of the wings into the corner of his left eye.

"It needs power…an initial charge." Hazil chuckled.

"Just let me grab my power cord here." Hazil ran over into a far corner of his Bay, opening up a drawer. He removed an almost antique orange plastic insulated power cable, then plugged it into a wall outlet. Hazil examined Bastion from all angles, furrowing his brow.

"Hey Bastion, where do I plug this sucker in?" Bastion blinked for a moment, also as unsure as of what to do. 

"For once you got me stunned." Hazil scratched his head, then a giant flash of light came from his face.

"DAMN! Bastion, if you aren't a fraggin' genius of the third kind!" Hazil ran back over to his equipment drawer and pulled out a pair of heart electroshock defibrillator pads, that looked oddly reminiscent of a pair of old fashioned steam irons. Bastion frowned at what he saw.

"Ehh…Hazil, what'yre doing there?" Hazil grinned from ear to ear.

"You should be able to reroute excess electrical power from your main system into the Flight Armor along your uplink. If I make it a small charge--like from this here human heart restarter, it should be enough to jumpstart your engine." Bastion frowned.

"Be serious, Hazil! Those things HURT!" Hazil gave Bastion an evil crazy old man stare.

"Oh, believe me. I AM serious. Now…OPEN WIDE!" Charging electrical power into the paddles, Hazil gave them a test burst into each other, then grunted in acknowledgement as the scent of ozone came into his nose.

Bastion removed the shock buffers from his wiring, then directed the upcoming overflow's path to go to the Angel's Advantage Flight Armor. 

The poor Hunter didn't even have time to suck in a breath of air before Hazil unleashed the defibrillator's power upon him.

"GEEYAACK!" Bastion cried out, his body twitching involuntarily to the pulse. Hazil cackled like a mad scientist for a moment as he read the diagnostics on Bastion's Flight Armor. The power level was climbing slowly, for the electrical charge was small.

For the Armor's purposes, anyway. Bastion was twitching like a rabbit with an electrode in his head. Hazil noted the incredible pain the Hunter was in, and when the Armor reached 5% power, he removed the paddles.

Bastion crumpled to the floor, still twitching. Thankfully, Bristol was there to catch him and help him to a slow descent. Bristol turned her face up to Hazil and glared angrily.

"That was uncalled for, you sod." Hazil blinked, then snorted. Putting his equipment away, he shrugged.

"Short of a lightning bolt, I couldn't think of any other way to give him an instant powerup." Hazil shrugged. "I'd give him a lollipop, but I don't think it'd make him feel any better." 

Bastion groaned, his eyes opening back up. Hazil stepped down beside him and ran a quick scan of his systems. The grouchy doc nodded slowly.

"You'll be all right, bub. Maybe a little woozy for the next few seconds, but short of your pride, nothing got obliterated. Your wiring is top notch, buster…and that's probably because I had to REPLACE HALF OF IT." Bastion finally shook himself to his senses, then picked himself up to his feet.

Or tried to. His hands were still suffering from the raging impulses, and the limbs weakened from under him. Bristol caught him again, and Bastion chuckled weakly.

"Come down here often?" Bristol shook her index finger, then flipped the tip of his nose with a wry smile.

"Let's keep focused on one thing at a time, eh luv?" Bastion sighed.

"All right. So, will this thing run now?" Hazil clacked his teeth together.

"It's got enough of a charge to get you airborne for about ten seconds. But if you don't pick up speed and get those Thermodynamic Friction Rechargers working for you, there'll be one less Hunter and one more grease spot on our roof…or wherever you crash." Bastion grinned for a moment at the thought.

"Taking risks. It sounds like fun." Bastion's eyes darkened, as he reattained the serious gaze. "So which way did our plucky five go off?" Hazil flashed a thumbs up.

"Cain keeps tracers on the hovercycles. We're seeing that Horn's leading them AWAY from the city, and into the mountain highways." Hazil tossed Bastion a datapadd, and the Hunter caught it easily. Hazil shrugged.

"That sucker has a direct link to the tracer feeds. Just don't drop it, and you should be able to catch up with them easily." Bastion frowned.

"They have a huge headstart on me, Hazil." Hazil wagged a condescending finger and pointed it at Bastion with a wink.

"You're flying with the power of electromagnetics now, Bastion. Not thrusters. You were able to get up to…what, 600 MPH on a good day, using your boot thrusters as well?" Bastion nodded. Hazil cackled.

"This thing can get 1000 MPH easy. Of course, if you went any faster than 600, you might get a nasty case of friction burn." Hazil nodded. "So until we get THAT detail worked out, don't try it."

Bastion flexed his hands for a moment, grunting in acknowledgement.

"Roger. I'd better get going then." Hazil held out his hand, shaking his head.

"Some prelim figurework has told me that it'll take at least 5 minutes of flight time before your primary thrust batteries are charged up. After that, it'll start shunting power into the weapons system of your Flight Armor…the lightning bolt emitters." Bastion couldn't help but laugh.

"Bristol, that was natural genius there, adding electrical discharge capabilities." Bristol shrugged, smiling widely.

"You DO lead the 'Lightning Strike' Hunter Unit, Bastion." 

Just then, Cain's comm chittered.

"Bastion, do you plan on getting your sorry carcass out and chasing the merry parade of doom?" Bastion winced at the rash voice of the Hunter's leader.

"On my way." 

It was a short dash to the outside of the HQ. Readying his wings into their position, Bastion took in a deep breath.

"Ten seconds to get these rechargers working…Wish me luck, Bristol." Bastion activated the wings, and suddenly felt a powerful force lift him into the air about six inches. With his legs dangling uselessly beneath him, Bastion noted the near quiet hum the wings produced. Most intriguing was the fact that light seemed to emanate from the wings, spiraling outwards.

"So that's how they work…" Bastion mused. But he had already used up two seconds of his time…Bastion decided it was time to get airborne.

However, in a small gesture of military genius, Bastion didn't soar high into the clouds. Instead, he maximized his chances of survival and skimmed along the ground, only two feet above the hard roadways.

Bastion found the new Flight Armor to be unbelievable. With his eyes wide open, he realized that by a simple mental command, he was in control of it.

"It's like a new set of hands…" Bastion said in stunned amazement. He raised himself up another five feet and did a slow barrel roll, maintaining his height.

He was cruising at a speed of 150 MPH, enough to whip his hair back and wish that he had some eye protection. As an afterthought, Bastion hit the comm on his chest.

"Hazil!" The doctor came on with a gruffish woof.

"Yeah, Bastion?" The Hunter squinted his eyes a bit more.

"I think we should investigate the possibility of a set of contacts for my eyes. I'm having to squint them." Hazil chortled.

"It's nothing you didn't have to deal with when you had your Powerstorm on."

"It bothered me then, too bub. I just figured if we're upgrading, we might as well go all the way." Hazil chortled.

"You whiner."

"WHINER?!" Bristol's voice came over the line in a cry of shocked annoyance. "Whine about this, you limey!" Bastion winced, clearly hearing the definitive crack of Bristol's fist smashing into the side of Hazil's jaw, and the sickening smack as the reploid doctor once more slammed into the wall, leaving a dent. Bristol's voice came on the commlink and sighed. "Sorry you had to hear that, luv. That was also for him shocking you to heaven's door." Bastion chuckled.

"Aah, s'all right. So tell me, can you help me out with this contact lens problem?" Bristol nodded.

"Give me a quick second…Land, won't you? It'll make it easier for me to warp it to you." Bastion did as he was told, noting thankfully that the friction rechargers were working, granting him a 25% charge in his Flight Armor.

Bristol's fingers were loud as they typed away on the Medical Console, bringing up the necessary schematics. She hummed a merry little diddy as she worked, and Bastion blinked.

"Are you humming God Save the Queen?" 

"I AM British, luv." Bristol giggled for a moment as she stopped typing. "Done. I based them somewhat on Wycost's sunglare goggles, but with some definite differences. They have a light red tint to them, and they're based on the sides of your helmet." Bastion grunted in approval.

"Sounds good. Upload the new designs now!" Bastion's helmet suddenly flashed as a warp signal, vanishing. Bastion knew that it had merely become a warp signal, a piece of computerized code that had vanished into his warp matrix's primary memory block. The additions from HQ would be uploaded to the existing designs, and then dewarped back into his helmet as a piece of matter that he wore.

Sure enough, ten seconds later, the helmet reappeared on his head, even managing to leave his hair as complete as before. Bastion ran a quick scan of it, and found that it did indeed have the new protective eyewear. He pushed a button on the side of his helmet just below his comm switch, and found that a pair of red tinted crystal sheets slid from the sides of his helmet, completely covering his eyes and providing a complete, but comfortable seal.

"What the…?!" Bastion suddenly exclaimed. Bristol giggled again.

"They also have a Heads Up Display built in. Nothing new, and I thought you might like it. It'll save you time on examining your systems stats during battle." Bastion laughed loudly.

"Sounds good! Bristol, that's another one I owe you!" Bristol sighed.

"Oh, I'm sure I can find a way for you to pay me back…" Bastion blushed visibly, and chortled in embarrassment. Bristol slapped her arm. "Well, what are you waiting for? Those five are ahead of you." Bastion nodded, glad to be back in a situation he knew how to handle.

"Roger. Bastion, signing off." Bastion ended the connection, then activated the Flight Armor's Repulsion Actuators and once more began to skim along the highway, following the Tracer Signal on his new red ruby flight goggle's HUD.

His power was climbing…Bastion allowed himself a grin. It did feel good to be back in the air again.

"The Desert Hunter has evolved…" Bastion mused. He grinned even wider as he decided to get some serious altitude, shooting up away from the earth with ease on his silent propulsion.

"The Desert Hunter flies again. Only this time, I'm something more." Bastion allowed himself a small comparison to some of the Muslim teachings of his past. "I am more now. I am Heaven's Fury."

"Move, Damnit!" Horn shouted at his hovercycle. But the piece of transportation didn't listen to him, and chugged along at its own pace. Horn gritted his teeth and looked behind him again. 

Allegro and Andante were still hot on his tail…and were making their presence known. They had already fired one barrage of plasma shots from their hovercycle's nose cannons, and managed to melt the seat padding only inches from Horn's posterior. 

Horn's robotic eye focused in, noting with dread that their cannons were reactivating again.

"Oh, sheeeooot!" Horn wailed, grabbing onto his handlebars with an even tighter grip. He was going to have to try his best to avoid the assault, and that could pose problems.

Horn and the twin reploids behind him were the one abnormality in the serene calm of the Highways leading away from Tokyo. Green grass grew on the sides of the road, accompanied by occasional patches of wildflowers. The sun was high in the air, seeing as it was around Two in the Afternoon.

Horn didn't have time to notice those.

Nor did he have time to notice that only a mile behind his bringers of death, two Hunters on similar hovercycles were booking it at incredible speed to them all.

Doan and Wycost skimmed along, using their cycle's dash burner function to catch up. When this was used, the front end of the cycle came up and you literally popped a wheelie. The fact that this also exposed the vicious slicing plasma blade underneath the front end, which never failed to slice through anything, helped matters a bit.

Unfortunately for the bloodthirsty in the Hunters, there was nothing to slice through at the moment.

Doan looked over at Wycost for a moment, sparing his eyes a continual run on the road. His calm seeking eyes probed Wycost's face for a long moment, trying to discover an answer.

For better or worse, Doan knew, Wycost had gone through a life change. Who he was before would never return. At least, the part of him that fought for blood and revenge.

The new Wycost had made it very clear he wished not to fight any longer.

The fire in Wycost's eyes was gone. Of course, the green Hunter was wearing his sunglare optical visors, with all the new functions included in them. 

His mouth wasn't tightened up in any form that would blatantly show Doan that Wycost was clenching his teeth together. Even the green Hunter's hands seemed loose on the handlegrips.

But the one thing Doan did notice in Wycost was the fact that the hawkish intelligence, the demeanor and spark given off by his body posture had not vanished.

At least his mind was still in the conflict…for now. 

But there was something else troubling Doan. It troubled him because it involved the Revenant use he had completed a while back. The memories, the powerful visual images that Doan had seen in Wycost's troubled, barren and soulless existence, held a clue to everything.

It held a clue to Allegro, Andante and J.K. Horn…And that common clue involved the cloaked figure that had attacked Wycost on that URFAWP transport to India.

"Hey Doan!" Doan blinked, bringing himself back to reality. Wycost was up ahead of him, and using their bike's short range comm system to reach him. Doan toggled his own transmitter.

"Sorry, Wycost." Doan shook his head. "I was just thinking." 

"Think later." Wycost replied. "Those two are playing shoot the fish in the barrel with Horn, and if we don't catch up, he's gonna be one dead SOB." Doan grunted.

"Here I come then!" Doan activated the Dash on his cycle, and his front end lifted up into the air.

He instantly reached a position next to Wycost, and when he dropped his front end back down, he gave Wycost a thumbs up.

"Wycost, I have a question…" Doan said, loudly enough so the other Hunter could hear him over the blowing breeze. Wycost raised up his black glasses into his helmet, staring into Doan's eyes.

"I think I know what you're going to ask." Doan shifted his handlegrips uncomfortably, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Eh? What do you think I'm going to ask?" Wycost looked ahead, not able to look directly at Doan.

"You're going to ask me if I know what all of this is about. Where Horn, those two, I and the Maverick Virus fit in the grand scheme of things." Doan blinked, stunned at the accuracy to Wycost's retort.

"Damn..." Doan shook his head. "So what's the answer?" Wycost still didn't look at Doan, shaking his head.

"Quoting specifics won't help anyone. But I'm gonna give you a vague statement, and you should be able to trace what I'm saying…with what you know from the inside of my head." Doan waited, and finally Wycost looked straight into his face. Wycost's eyes glistened with a calm blue sea of understanding, not the fire of before. "Allegro and Andante went through the same thing I did on that transport, only they were able to escape. They think Horn's responsible for it all…but truth be told, Horn's just an oblivious dreamer whose vision has turned into a nightmare. The infection…the Maverick Virus…Horn isn't responsible for it. Hell, the poor twip isn't even aware of it, and those two are after his hide. The Virus came from the outside, because we failed to eliminate all the Mavericks in the Fifth Uprising. It was a simple matter for the one surviving maverick to find Sigma and harbor his main program in his brain."

Doan frowned.

"I thought you, X, Bastion and Zero totally trashed them all!" Wycost shook his head, sighing sadly.

"We missed one. And thanks to that one, the nightmare was able to restore itself." Doan finally realized what the green Hunter was saying, and it dawned on him like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, God no…" Wycost raised a finger.

"I'm not done yet, Doan. There is one good piece of news."

"What's GOOD about this?"

"At least the GDC's ultimatum will have to be retracted now. If the mavericks are back, so's the need for the Hunters." 

"It's a lousy victory, Wycost." Doan replied sourly. "No matter what the Hunters do, our victories are always tampered down by some aspect of defeat." Doan could feel the pessimism begin to restore itself in his head, and the sour cloud of his basic mood restore itself. 

Wycost looked over from his own cycle and frowned.

"When I was in URFAWP, there was one reploid I got to know quite well. He went by the name of Isaiah, and one thing he pointed out to me is something I still remember."

"What?" Doan snorted, popping a wheelie to gain speed. Wycost flung his own cycle forward to catch up to the gray Hunter, setting his jaw.

"Isaiah taught me that if you get too serious all of the time, eventually you're going to hatch an egg of gray hair." Doan blinked at the odd statement, then stared at Wycost with wide eyes.

"And just what was he smoking when he said that?"

"Might have been Siberian Crabgrass…" Wycost mused, cracking a small grin. He shook his head, looking forward again. "Come on. They're catching up to Horn." 

Doan set his jaw.

"Showtime, then." The two of them finally pushed their cycles to their limits, bursting ahead.

The targets were getting jittery.

"This foolishness ends now…" Allegro growled. Andante looked over in surprise, wondering what his rash twin was doing.

The answer came as Allegro pulled the trigger on his hovercycle's cannon three times. Once more, Horn deftly avoided the plasma storm, but this time it was different.

Just after his final shot, Allegro activated the speed dash on his cycle, his front end raising up into the air as he aimed the deadly underbelly of the hovercycle at the back end of the maneuvering Horn. 

Horn only had time to turn his head around for a quick check, gasp in audible shock at the oncoming foe, and brace himself for the imminent impact.

The rear end of Horn's cycle was torn to shreds within milliseconds, the raging plasma underbelly blades slicing through the lightweight armor and seat padding.

Allegro swerved to the side and backed away from the now chewed up cycle that Horn was riding on.

For a few moments, Horn's cycle continued on, the back end now deprived of its rear repulsors.

Then the bike's shredded tail smashed into the concrete roadway, squealing horribly as sparks flew like mad.

The sparks lit the fuel line that had once fed power to the rear main thruster.

It took the hovercycle .262 seconds to explode, hurling J.K. Horn off of it mercifully, and slamming him like a skipping stone along the pavement as his unarmored body took the horrible strain of slowing from 200 MPH to zero all at once.

Horn's scream was loud as he flew through the air. When he hit the ground, the air got knocked out of him, and only the scraping sounds of his synthflesh being torn off his body could be heard.

Allegro and Andante turned their own cycle's thrusters off, coasting down to a halt beside the now almost dead leader of URFAWP.

Horn slumped onto his back, letting his shredded right arm cross his stomach as he looked up through his normal eye, his robotic one having shorted out.

"Noo…" Horn wheezed, his breathing labored as his medical repair system tried fruitlessly to heal his wounds.

Allegro hopped off of his cycle, walking slowly over to his former leader with rage filled, angry eyes. Taking his beam staff from its electromagnetic connection on his lower torso, the rogue reploid lit only one blade on it.

"Why, Allegro?" Horn asked, his one good eye starting to blink out of life. Allegro growled and slammed the saber's blade through Horn's right leg.

Horn's screams could be heard by Doan and Wycost as they still approached.

Wycost frowned, readying his trigger thumb.

"We go in, cannons shooting. Let's blow those cycles up and get their attention." Doan nodded, double checking to make sure his beam lance and X-Buster were still in place.

Allegro pulled the contained plasma blade away from the now shorted out limb of J.K. Horn, kicking it aside. Shards of melted metal flew out of the wound, accompanied by a pooling of red reploid blood.

"You monster." Allegro growled, activating both sides to his staff. "You built URFAWP under a ruse, fooled everyone into thinking your intentions were good. Then, slowly you used your dark servants to carry out your true mission."

"Mission…" Horn's voice trailed off, his right arm slumping to the ground weakly. "What are you talking about?" Allegro gritted his teeth, a slow scream worming its way out from between his teeth.

"ENOUGH LIES, HORN!" Allegro screamed. Raising the beam staff above his head, he stared straight into the pained and half dead face of J.K. Horn, founder of URFAWP. "It ends here, bastard." Allegro said. "No more will you bring suffering to all who you see." 

Thankfully, Horn's death was not to be. A pair of guardian angels saved his bacon from imminent crisping in a blast of fury that seemed to come from the heavens themselves.

In truth, it was just Doan and Wycost, finally caught up to the conflagration and making their presence known by blowing the rogue reploid's hovercycles to smithereens.

"COMPANY!" Andante howled, whipping his saber out and igniting it. Allegro whipped his head around, in stunned disbelief.

"What?!" The explosions had jarred them out of their murderous stupor, but it had done nothing to harm them.

So Wycost and Doan brought their hovercycles into another wheelie, a final wheelie, charging the deadly underbelly of their streaking metallic missiles towards Allegro and Andante.

Of course, the twin reploids couldn't be stopped that easily, and they dashed out of the way with little effort. 

However, what they weren't expecting was to have Doan and Wycost leap off their cycles as they approached, coming down towards them at a speed of 175 MPH as blurs of metal.

"NO!" Allegro yowled, readying his saber. Wycost made a blazing path for him, his eyes quiet, if not somber and contained. Allegro noticed his Buster was raised, and the wily reploid dashed aside to avoid the bodily impact the green Hunter would have most likely inflicted upon him.

But Allegro was wrong. Even if his heart no longer wanted to cause death, Wycost was a skilled, dangerous and deadly Hunter, unpredictable and because of that, at the top of his game. Wycost kept his Buster's bead on the dashing figure, his mouth tightening as his eyes glimmered underneath his goggles.

"Not today, pal." What Wycost released was not a powerful burst of plasma, but instead a high energy flash of light in the Candelabra Units of millions. It was his Strobe Flash, attained from the final Maverick General in the Fifth Uprising more than a year ago.

Allegro's optical photoreceptors overloaded instantly, sending a painful amount of signals to his main neuroprocessor. In response, and so that the rest of his systems could still function, the neuroprocessor shut off the connection to Allegro's optics, and sent in repair energy, equipped with maintenance nanobots to patch up the blown wiring. It would take some time, though.

In effect, what happened was that Allegro was blinded until his optics were fully repaired.

That still didn't stop him from screaming from that one blinding moment of overpowering light. Wycost landed on the ground beside the reploid, shifting back to his normal Buster's plasma function.

"Pathetic fool." Wycost muttered. "You're trying to destroy the wrong reploid." 

Doan had been sparring with Andante for the brief three seconds it had taken Wycost to disable the unsuspecting Allegro. His beam lance, longer than a regulation beam saber had to be used with both hands, but it also gave Doan the advantage to keep the fight at a longer range from his body than others.

For the moment, he was close to par with Andante, whose double bladed beam staff gave him twice the potential for chaos.

But the Strobe Flash Wycost let loose also struck Andante, though not as severely. Doan's back was to Wycost's own fight, and so he was not blinded like his sparring counterpart.

Andante squinted through his optics, still feeling the retinal burn from the shorted out optical circuitry. Doan gritted his teeth and pulled back for a moment, holding the lance in his right hand while his left shifted seamlessly into his X-Buster.

Firing off a small barrage of blasts, Doan ensured that Andante would have to either evade or repel the assault. True to colors, Andante readied his staff and began to twirl it, creating a rotating shield of protection for the shots.

What Andante most likely wasn't expecting was that Doan would be following it with a dash strike.

Ducking low as his boot thrusters slammed him forward through the air, Doan gripped his beam lance firmly and finally slammed the blade into the rotating melee of Andante's defense. 

Contained plasma met contained plasma, and the rotations stopped. A small blast of plasma that hadn't been deflected yet zinged by the now motionless beam staff blades, slamming into Andante's shoulder.

The reploid cried out in pain as the plasma fizzled away, leaving a slightly scuffed and melted piece of slag where his shoulder cuff had been. His grip on the staff weakened, and Doan easily slammed the enemy reploid's weapon aside.

He rushed inwards with another burst of his dash thrusters, slamming his helmeted head up into the gut of Andante. Andante's scream died out as the air was knocked out of him, and Doan followed it up with a punishing uppercut, using the handle of his beam lance instead of his hand.

To add a final threat, Doan held the plasma blade at Allegro's throat once he had finally crashed to earth.

Through cold menacing eyes, Doan held the lance level, the plasma illuminating the tiny beads of sweat on Andante's brow.

"You move…you die." Andante's breathing was labored, and he looked right back at Doan.

"Why don't you just kill me now?" Doan readied his Buster, pointing it at Andante and pulling his lance back.

"Because some people who carry around plasma blade weaponry don't just eliminate supposedly rogue reploids without a darn good reason." Doan jerked his head to the flaming husks of the Twin's hijacked cycles. "Move." 

Andante did as he was told, unceremoniously shoved next to the still blinded Allegro, cursing and spitting as his hands tried unsuccessfully to loosen the powerful electromagnetic shackles.

Doan stepped next to Wycost, speaking softly from the corner of his mouth.

"So now what do we do with them?" Wycost blinked, raising his sunglare goggles up.

"You keep that Buster trained on them. They move, blow out a kneecap. I'm going to check on Horn…" Wycost looked over, sucking on a tooth. "Something tells me that he's not in the best shape of his life after they got through with him."

As Wycost trod over slowly towards the motionless Horn, his fears were confirmed. The reploid was indeed in bad shape. Most noticeable was the saber wound in his leg, a gaping hole with rivulets of melted metal and severed blood veins. His entire body however showed the signs of a severe case of road rash. Wycost had to shut his eyes for a moment to push the swelling rage of emotions back down.

"No…" Wycost grunted to himself. "Horn, can you hear me?" 

Horn's good eye fluttered open, trying miserably to focus in on the green blur above him.

"Who…Who is it?" Horn slurred. Wycost groaned.

"Aah, Cripes. Horn, do you have a Chest Compartment with Sub-Tank technology?"

"I…Yeah…" Horn wheezed, his eye beginning to snap shut again. Wycost activated his own Chest Compartment and pulled out a Sub-Tank.

"Then open it, damnit!" Wycost demanded. Horn groaned for a few moments, and finally with much effort, Horn's own Chest Compartment opened up. Wycost slammed the Sub-Tank home and set it to feed, then shut the Compartment up again. "I hope this works, Horn. It was only half charged."

The energy feed became apparent quickly, as Horn's optic shot open, and he sucked in a breath. The wound to his leg sealed the blood flow, although it would take repairs by a doctor like Hazil to close the wound completely.

Horn raised a hand up, finally focusing in on his savior. He blinked in surprise.

"You're…you're…"

"Wycost." The Green Hunter reached his own hand down and pulled Horn to his feet. Horn shook his head, now close to fully recovered. At least he could speak now.

"You…saved me! But you were on that transport in India that the Hunters said went maver…" Wycost held up a hand, his stern face silencing Horn midsentence.

"Horn, I know it's not you that is infecting URFAWP."

"WHAT?!" Allegro yowled from his seat. Doan leveled his Buster and growled.

"Don't move." Allegro addressed the gray Hunter with a shrewd look and gazed over to Horn and Wycost.

"Whaddya mean he isn't responsible? HE'S THE SNAKE'S HEAD!" Wycost turned around, pointing a sturdy hand and a sturdy index finger at the hotheaded reploid.

"WRONG." Allegro sat back, as if pushed by the force in Wycost's voice. "I was infected, yes. And I surmise you were also threatened with that fate. Yes, URFAWP is where the problem is stemming from. But it isn't J.K. Horn that is causing it. He is oblivious to everything."

"I get the feeling I'm not going to like where this conversation goes…" Horn clucked. Wycost shook his head.

"No. you won't. But you two…Allegro and Andante, Horn isn't the one you should be threatening with death."

Suddenly, a rustling of air blew past the stalled scene from above. All eyes turned to the sky above, and a darkened figure settled down to earth.

The long brown and rustling hair of Bastion settled onto his shoulders and upper back, and his blindingly radiant wings whined down from their flight, reluctantly slipping into the darker, more heavily built backpack that they could not see.

Bastion took a look around himself, calmly soaking in the situation. Then he turned to Wycost, blinking silently.

"Bastion." Wycost said calmly. "You got here a bit late. The cavalry already saved the day. Horn's safe."

"For the moment, at least…" Bastion mused, his eyes darkening into a glare as he looked past the green Hunter to the trembling metal man.

"Oh my dear sweet Bengay…" Horn said, his voice fluctuating in dismay. A shaky hand raised itself, pointing to Bastion. "That's…that's…"

"My new Flight Armor. Angel's Advantage. Designed and built by Bristol and Hazil of the MHHQ." Horn gulped down a breath of air, looking for all the world like an aged fish out of water.

"No…Angelus De Morte…" Horn whispered softly, his knees beginning to go weak. "The Angel of Death…And I helped to create him!" Bastion furrowed his brow.

"Eh? What are you jabbering about, Horn?" Wycost reached over, grabbing Horn under an arm so the reploid would still be standing.

Horn wiped his sweaty and scraped brow with a hankie, then shook his head incredulously. 

"What I'm saying, Desert Fire, is that I helped to program the Electromagnetic Repulsion Actuators. And now you're probably going to kill me with that suit." Bastion blinked incredulously.

"Why would you help build my new Flight Armor, Horn? The two of us are mortal enemies, for Fryin's sake!" Horn finally stood tall and sucked in a breath. Staring at Bastion in a look of futility and hopelessness, he shrugged.

"At the time, all I was doing was helping out your girlfriend Bristol." 

"GIRLFRIEND?!" Wycost hollered, looking first at Horn and then Bastion, who even as his cheeks began to match the fiery red of his armor, shook his head.

"A lot's happened while you were gone, Wycost." Wycost shook his head, then slammed a fist against it.

"What fun…" Horn tapped his uninjured foot on the ground, being careful not to place weight on the stabbed one.

"So Bastion, the question remains; now that your new jumpjet is operational, are you going to kill me with it?" Bastion frowned, looking at Horn.

"Both you and the twins have crossed me before. But eliminating you by using this suit, as something that you helped to build, would be wrong. No, Horn. I will not kill you with this suit, and for the duration of this conflict, we're just going to have to learn to shake hands and cooperate." Horn sighed, looking to Wycost.

"Can I trust him?" Wycost blinked.

"With your life." Wycost suddenly realized the chipper statement was slightly off kilter, seeing as in recent minced words, the two were enemies. He shrugged. "Sorry, I'd trust him with my life. But he'll keep his promise…He always has." 

Horn stepped away from Wycost, walking towards the Desert Fire, now Angelus De Morte. Putting his weakened arms on his waist, Horn looked up at Bastion through his torn and ragged shorts and Hawaiian T-shirt. The two stared into each other's eyes, calmly, probing for some aspect of the other's discomfort.

"So what can I do next?" Horn asked softly. Bastion looked over at Wycost, who raised his hand.

"Bastion, Horn isn't the one who's infecting URFAWP. He's being set up as the patsy." Bastion frowned.

"You sure?" Wycost flipped his glasses down, putting his face back into a blank stare of solemnity.

"DEAD sure." Bastion raised his chin up.

"All right, Wycost. I trust you. But as for those two twins…" Bastion frowned and looked over to Horn's attackers. "I still have some questions concerning how I was nearly killed a while back chasing after Canark." Wycost blinked in surprise.

"You were almost wiped out?" Bastion jerked a thumb at them.

"They're the most likely suspects." Doan stepped forth, putting his beam lance back in it's quirky diagonal shoulder to waist recharger, much like a sheathe for a traditional katana. 

"If I may interject, I think it's in our best interests to get everyone back to the HQ at the moment." 

After re-rounding up the posse, Bastion, Wycost, and Doan activated their warp generators and took the haphazard group of innocent, suspect, and ruthless reploids through the vapor trails of the air with them o their way back home.

There were still questions, yes. 

But none of them knew that five minutes from now, they would all be answered in a resounding chord that would shatter the world's sense of peace.

"We got warp signals inbound!" Bristol yowled from her console. "It looks like Bastion, Wycost and Doan got their escapees." 

Sitting high on his command chair, Cain nodded sagely, being careful not to overexert himself. 

"How long until they get here?" 

"Ten seconds." Cain nodded again. At that moment, the Trio of the 21st walked in the door, and Cain noticed their approach. 

"Aah, you're all alive and well I see." Cain said placidly. "Well, have a seat." Gavin stepped forth, shaking his head.

"Considering those two troublemakers got out on our watch, I think it's best if we stand for a while." Cain shrugged.

"Suit yourself, boys."

Just then, the warp signals came home, rematerializing in the warp chamber on the side of the Command Center. Dragging the twin reploids in chains behind him, Bastion walked out grimfaced. Following was Doan, then Horn, then Wycost.

"Cain, Wycost shared some news with us all that may come as a surprise…" Bastion started. Cain raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Wycost, care to elaborate for the rest of us?" Wycost blinked for a moment and stepped forth.

"Cain, in the short time since I left here about a month ago, I've seen enough stuff to turn a penguin all white. Most frightening was the reappearance of the Virus…which I fought off." Wycost waited, then Cain shrugged.

"Continue." Wycost took in a breath.

"Cain, Horn here isn't the one who is responsible for the Virus's reappearance. The person who is…"

Wycost was cut off by a powerful wailing cry that turned the lights in HQ a powerful red, klaxons going off by their own accord.

Clamping his hands over his ears, Cain gritted his teeth and turned to Bristol.

"What's happening here?" Bristol was also disturbed by the noise and flashing lights, but she had enough sense to bring up what the computer was telling her. Blinking, she looked at Cain.

"We've just received a transmission…it's a planetwide transmission!" Bristol shook her head. "We're not the only ones to get this. Everyone on earth in range of a TV, an Internet connection or a vidwindow will be seeing the same thing."

"Where did it come from?" Cain grimaced. Bristol glared as she typed away.

"Unknown. Whoever did this bounced it off a few hundred communication satellites in orbit…and each one is transmitting." 

Cain felt that queasy feeling in his stomach again, that empty gnawing demon inside. Wycost finally released a frown, a glare, baring his teeth to the telescreen above.

"It's him…They're moving sooner than expected." Cain ignored Wycost for the moment and waved his hand in the air.

"If someone wants us to watch their vacation movies so badly, we might as well. PUT IT UP ON THE SCREEN."

With a few swift keystrokes, Bristol opened the data feed to the message.

When the first image flickered to life on the giant screen overhead, a dead silence filled the bay. Even the klaxons turned off because Bristol had started the transmission.

Nothing but silence.

Nothing but a still, unearthly hollowness filled the room. No one could respond, all stunned by what they saw. Everyone but Wycost, who knowingly nodded his head and watched like the rest of them.

The figure that stared down at them was a familiar one. One that chilled the bones of all humans, and one that caused many Hunters to mutter audible threats.

With a pair of jagged colored scars coming down over his eyes, a bald synthskin head, and an all too familiar sneer, Sigma looked down at them.

"This message is being broadcast all over the world at the same time." Sigma's raspy voice began, pausing for effect. A dimmer figure stood behind him, but the shadows kept it concealed, and even its shape couldn't be made out.

"First of all, my congratulations to the Maverick Hunters. In my last great Uprising, they almost succeeded in killing me." Sigma sneered again. "ALMOST. You can never completely kill me off…kill off the mavericks, unless you eliminate all the other carriers." Zero choked on that statement, pointing a finger at the screen.

"Impossible! He was the only one left when we walked out of that sewer!" Wycost raised a hand, his eyes growing dead, but also with a calm fury to them.

"Look behind him. Don't you recognize that form?"

No one in the room, not even X could identify it. Wycost sighed. "Might as well let the man finish then." 

True enough, Sigma's broadcast began after another three second gloat.

"Behind me is the only maverick that was left standing after that conflict. Were it not for his diligence, his ruthless, and his loyalty, the world would indeed be fully rid of all the Mavericks." Sigma raised his right hand. "Servant, step forth so the home audience can view you again."

A short pause on Sigma's end. Finally, the shadowed figure stepped up. He was garbed in a thick brown cloth cloak, but underneath his hood, a pair of bright red eyes flared into life.

And then the cackle.

That cackle chilled the bones of everyone in the room, but it put one person to clenching his fist.

"Not him…" X whispered fiercely. Instinctively, his arm reached up for his left shoulder, feeling where once before, he had been thrust into the brink of death.

Finally, a pair of clawed hands reached up, and removed the hood. 

The figure's eyes were sunken, beady and a bright red. A pair of ears, metallic yet still covered in fur, twitched oddly at the new sensation of air against them. And then it smiled. 

His mouth was full of razor sharp spines.

"Shit." Zero cursed under his breath. "The one that got away…" 

And finally, it dawned on the Hunters.

Their victory in the Fifth Uprising was as hollow as any before it.

Sigma cackled again.

"World, I would like you to meet Fluid Ferret." In the most repugnant gesture he could make, Ferret waved to the camera and grinned.

"Hiya. I slice, dice, smash, and crush. How would you like to die?" Sigma cackled again, and Bastion had to fight off the wave of revulsion from their appearance.

"Oh, yes. Ferret is quite the busybody…or busy making bodybags." Sigma's eyes settled back down again, and he cracked his knuckles.

"While you all have been sitting on your laurels and disarming yourselves, I have been keeping very busy, planning for the day when I would return." Sigma grinned again, pointing at the camera. "I'm sorry that I missed our one year anniversary, Zero. I do so hope my belated present will appease you."

Eyes turned to Zero, but the red Crimson Hunter only glared at the screen, his fists shaking with rage.

"Damn you, Sigma…" Sigma laughed from his end of the line.

"Oh, I know you're probably cursing me out right now, my dear Crimson Hunter." Ferret tapped Sigma on the shoulder, and looked down at him.

"Can I spill the beans, boss?" Sigma shrugged for a moment.

"One way or another, the world will learn. No use in sugarcoating it." Ferret extended the claws in his left hand, taking a swipe through the air.

"Words to live by." Ferret grinned at the camera, flashing his deadly teeth. "Now listen good, y'all…you have been living in a fallacy. You thought you had taken us out. URFAWP…an organization you all supported, was our ticket back to power. Did you know that if a weaker version of the Maverick Virus entwines itself with the true Sigma Master Virus File, the weaker version will mutate?" Ferret clamped his hands together, laughing again.

"Oh yes indeedy. Thanks to that, the Virus took on a more subtle form. It would only activate on our command, and when it did, they would become our zombies, controlled by the code, obeying our commands. How did we infect URFAWP? Very slowly, choosing our targets."

"Noo…" Horn said, his eyes widening. "Not my baby…" Allegro and Andante looked over at Horn, incredulously. Then they looked at each other.

The message that passed between their eyes was a powerful one, and one which carried guilt.

_We've been fighting the wrong guy…_

"The thing about being evil is that no matter how strong the forces of good are, it's moderately easy to corrupt its less brilliant vestiges." Ferret continued, rapping his right clawed hand on the table. "J.K. Horn may be viewed as a hero to the world, but in Sigma's eyes, he's nothing more than an optimistic fool that we took advantage of." Ferret flashed a thumbs up and grinned even wider. "On behalf of all rampaging infected mavericks to be, THANKS HORN!" 

The great J.K. Horn slumped to his knees. Finally, a beaten dog. His dream wiped away and replaced with a nightmare that by all rights should have died.

Sigma stood up, his eyes flashing for a moment.

"I think I should finish, Ferret." The wily maverick nodded, then jerked his thumb. 

"I'll go get things set up." Sigma nodded, then looked back into his camera, smiling.

"Well, isn't that nice? Fluid Ferret CAN be good natured." Sigma relaxed for a moment, then gave that same superior sneer. "But we're not quite done using URFAWP just yet. There are bases all over the world in certain locales where URFAWP trainees can meet to learn the ropes. These bases have all been taken over by us. A thousand willing reploid…No, MAVERICK servants, with nothing more on their minds except what my lovely Virus tells them to do." 

Cain's eyes went wider.

"Oh Jesus, God No…" Cain uttered feebly. Sigma cackled, as if he could almost hear Cain's response.

"YES! The Day of the Mavericks has returned to the world. As we speak, my reconstructed Maverick Generals are all leading their own attacks on various major cities of the world. I myself will be taking Ferret along with me on perhaps the most vital mission of all." Sigma cracked his knuckles. "Just so everyone knows, every major Military Base of the advanced countries in the GDC have already been attacked and infected with the Virus as well. Those URFAWP people do get around…" Sigma cackled. "Oh, I'm sorry to say, but the only hope for your puny planet now lies in the hands of the ever present, yet close to disbanded, MAVERICK HUNTERS."

Sigma stood up, and the camera followed him, maintaining the lens on his face.

"But the sad part is, there aren't enough Hunters for everywhere that I'm going to be sending forces. You're outnumbered, and outgunned." Sigma laughed loudly, priming his arms back.

"The world is indeed my puppet. In your pursuit of peace, you have provided me with a fountain of faithful servants, and helped to weaken the only true force that ever got in our way." Sigma grinned.

"So, X…Zero…And the rest of you who reside in Tokyo's famed Maverick Hunter Headquarters, I issue you a challenge. If you can find us, then come and face us." Sigma shrugged.

"Of course, then again this isn't as much of a challenge as it is a necessity." Sigma cracked his sneer again. "Tell me…are you up for the game?" Sigma walked over, until only his eye was in the camera, huge and grotesque.

"You had best be. For the fate of humanity, and indeed the civilized world under your ways of ruling it lies in the hands of the earth's final 'saviors'." Sigma sneered the last word, showing the scorn for it.

"The timer begins now, Hunters. I will be waiting for your retaliation." 

The signal finally cut off, leaving nothing but static in its wake.

For a few moments, dead silence.

Then all Hell broke loose in the Command Center. Shouts, cries, angry voices and those filled with despair all mixed in a cacophony Sigma no doubt had hoped to create with his return.

It was the shrill whistle of Cain who silenced them all. He stood up, putting his great basso voice into its full power.

"QUIET! Don't you all understand? SIGMA WANTS US TO BE IN CHAOS!" 

That silenced them all. Cain breathed heavily.

"First, we have to know where Sigma is sending troops." Horn raised a hand from where he was sitting, looking up with sorrowful eyes.

"I can help." Horn said raggedly. Cain raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" Horn walked over to Bristol's console, and brought up the planetary scanners.

Typing in a few commands, including one for tracing a specific kind of hovertransport, Horn finally hit the calculate command.

Within seconds, five flashing blips lit up a map of the world. Horn shook his head.

"That monster…" Horn muttered. "He's sending Mavericks to Moscow, Riyadh, Cairo, Rio De Janeiro…And Washington D.C."

"JEEZUS!" Gavin yelped. "FIVE locations? We can't match that!"

X raised his hand.

"YES…" X looked at all the stunned faces around him. He matched their gaze evenly, his own face tired and weary from the prospect of more fighting. "It will be tight, but we can do it. Right now, there's only Three Hunter Units fit for massive combat. The 17th, the 21st under Bastion, And Zero's #00." X continued. "But we also have an ace up our sleeve…None of you know this, and this information doesn't go beyond these walls…but I've been working with an old friend on creating a group of planetary defenders that aren't controlled by the GDC's whims."

"That still leaves us with only Four Units. One location is going to get nailed hard." Doan's voice carried out. X looked over at Doan, a Hunter from his own Unit. He then looked at Wycost, who raised a hand.

"No…there's still another way to cover that fifth place." Wycost said. All eyes watched him.

Wycost turned and looked back at the captive Allegro and Andante.

"You can't be serious…" Zero muttered. "Those two tried to frag Horn! And Bastion, as well!" Wycost turned to Zero, calm fire in his eyes.

"They tried to kill Horn because they thought wrongly that he was responsible for the Virus's place in URFAWP. They're not going to go after him again. And as for Bastion…" Wycost shook his head.

"I must have been gone that day. Nevertheless, we need all the help we can get." Wycost turned back to the reploid pair, his eyes pleading.

"Whaddya say, you two? You up for an attack on the RIGHT person, for a change?" Allegro looked over at Horn, his own face crestfallen and guilty. Then he frowned and looked up at Wycost.

"If you come along for the ride. You went through what we did…I'd only feel comfortable taking on the true threat with someone who's faced it all the way." 

Doan stepped up next to Wycost, putting an arm on the green Hunter's shoulder.

"If you don't mind, X…" Doan said, looking at his commander, "I think I'd like to go along with Wycost as well. Four individuals stand a better chance of success than three."

Cain clapped his hands together. His eyes scanned the room, saddened, but with a spark of hope that he dearly held onto.

"That makes five, then. Now, we just decide who goes where."

"We'd best make it quick." X said. "Sigma mentioned his forces were on the move already." Horn raised a hand.

"The transports will reach their destinations at the same time…one hour from now." X nodded.

"Good to know." His usually calm eyes darkened all the way, and he formed his left hand into a Buster. "Let's get our assault teams set up then." Zero stomped a foot on the ground.

"Time to save the world again, all…" 

For all that went between the faces of the Hunters and others in the Command Center, there was one general feeling.

Uneasiness.

Chances were that a lot of Hunters…and others…

Wouldn't be coming back home from this desperate counterattack.


	17. Futile Victory

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS **__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: FUTILE VICTORY

While Hazil, Cain and Horn bustled about, pegging locations, the Hunters and even Allegro and Andante set about equipping themselves, for what would be for many…

Their final fight.

Grim faces all around themselves was the defining feature on their faces for the next twenty minutes, as they grabbed Sub-Tanks, Heart Tanks, double checked their Busters, and gave their sabers one final charge.

Finally, the team's leaders stepped up to the plate. X, Zero, Bastion and Wycost entered the Command Center, and the door shut behind them. Cain sat in his chair, looking over at them with severity as they returned.

"This doesn't leave the room." Cain hit a button on his console, and the telescreen above flashed into life.

The unblinking stony face of a dandelion gold and silver robot stared down at them. His head was covered in an ancient Egyptian turban, and a facemask covered his mouth.

"Pharaoh Man here. Who am I speaking to among X's friends?" X stepped up next to Cain, showing himself in the transmission.

"Pharaoh, I hope you realize the severity of this. Each of us has a very distinct role to fill in this struggle. If even one of our counterattacks fails…" X couldn't bring him to say it.

But he knew what would happen.

That location would be totally absorbed. The humans would become nothing but charred piles of ashes under Buster fire, or worse, rotting corpses, their deaths brought about by even more horrific means. And then the Mavericks would be even stronger.

Pharaoh Man nodded his head. X still found it hard to believe that he, X, was two feet taller than any of Cossack's robots.

"I understand, X. The fate of humanity lies on all of our shoulders this day." Pharaoh Man blinked. "My team will handle Moscow. It's the closest to us, and Cossack has some powerful sentiment there." X nodded.

"That's one down. Who's going to handle the rest?" Bastion stepped up to the plate, frowning.

"I'll take on Rio De Janeiro. I'd like to avoid the Mideast at all costs, if I can." Faces looked over to him in surprise. Bastion shrugged back. "Hey, the Jihad's still going on. Returning is like putting a gunsight on my head for betraying the cause. And X…" Bastion sighed, putting a hand to his head. "X, I'd appreciate it if you took Bristol with you. You're a much better Hunter than I'd ever hope to be, and seeing as she's bound determined to help out, it might as well be under the wing of someone who does the job right." X shrugged.

"I'll keep an eye on her. Cain, the 17th, and Bristol will handle Washington D.C.'s problems." Wycost raised a hand.

"Seeing as Bristol is filling Doan's shoes in your Unit X, I'll drag him and Allegro and Andante along with me to Cairo." Zero finally grunted.

"I guess that leaves the merry go-getters of my Unit to tackle Riyadh's infestation." Pharaoh Man raised a hand from his end in Siberia.

"It would seem we have reached a total of five strike teams." X nodded.

"Hey Pharaoh, is there anything we can supply you with from our end? Attack vehicles, Sub-Tanks?" Pharaoh frowned and shook his head.

"X, we're robots. We fully understand that the systems designed for reploid use wouldn't work as well for us. Besides, Cossack has a more than ample supply of Energy Tanks, which serve the same purpose. The only favor you can do for us is to end the threats at your region. And that is not as much for us as it is for the world." Zero grunted.

"Pharaoh, you're damn close to being a reploid, you know that?" Pharaoh shrugged.

"Age brings wisdom, as the good doctor Sergei Cossack says. I've just been around longer than any of you." Pharaoh Man waved his hand, pushing back his great green cape. "My team is going to get moving. I wish you all the best of luck." Pharaoh Man's signal blinked out, and the four remaining team leaders nodded solemnly. Cain looked down at them, once more holding a tiny shred of hope in a situation that was next to impossible.

"Well, then…Assemble the strike teams and move out." Bastion slid his Angel's Advantage wings out for a moment, testing their power levels. Still high, although Hazil had mentioned to him that the batteries would need replacing in six months to maintain optimum charge levels. 

X took the time to activate his internal warp generator and access the HQ's memory block for all the Armor Sets he had collected over the years.

He chose one. 

In a flash of shimmering light, X became enshrouded by gold, the ultimate power Light had given him, during the Third Uprising. When Doppler had been taken out by him, and Sigma had made his third and most frightening appearance of the first three Uprisings. It had everything X felt he would need:

Auto recharge capabilities, dual Air-Dash Thrusters, an enhanced body energy shield, and the Hyper Cannon. X knew he'd have to be careful with it. Once the initial charge was gone, he would either have to get the tar beat out of him to get it's strength back, or his body would transfer health energy directly to the systems.

It was made to do damage, plain and simple. 

And there was a Ferret who X wanted to destroy after a very long wait.

Zero rubbed a stain off of his arm, then whipped out his saber and gave it a practice swing. Checking his belt, he was satisfied to see his four shots of Rakuhouha were still ready to go. Aside from the Kuuenbu and Tenkhuuha, that attack was the only one still active in his systems after the Fifth Uprising. 

Wycost already knew what shape his system was in, but he knew that he should warn his comrades of one detail.

"Guys, something you all need to know about Ferret…" All eyes turned to him. Wycost looked back at them grimfaced. "When Sigma merged with him, it gave him even greater powers than he had before. X, you thought he was tough when he almost tore your arm off? He has that…and more."

Wycost pointed to himself. "He is capable of creating a field of Maverick Virus nanobots in a ten foot radius now. This immobilizes anyone within the vicinity, and leaves you open for worse versions of the Virus. You might as well call it Ferret Freeze for the time being. If one of you should meet with him, be wary of that. Don't let him move the battle in close. Keep your distance and fire away. And if that's not possible…" Wycost bit his tongue.

"You'd all best be very experienced with internal Virus Deletion. I've gone through it TWICE now." Cain stared down at him, his eyes wary.

"Wycost, I meant to ask you. Are you going to rejoin the Hunters?" Wycost shook his head.

"A good 80% of everyone here would like to tear my head off. I left because I was fed up with getting the short end of the shaft. Admit it. None of you standing in this room are feeling too peachy with me right now." Wycost flipped his goggles down.

"I don't want to kill life anymore. But for the good of life, I am fulfilling this mission. After that…it's my call as to what I'll do next." Wycost shook his head again. "Do you know why I'm doing this?"

"Revenge?" Bastion wagered in an unsure voice. Wycost shook his head.

"No. That's why I joined before. This time…this time, it's just to stop the same thing that happened to me from hitting anyone else." 

"Good reasons." X said calmly. "That's why I joined up too. But I've stayed."

"Because of your loyalty, X." Wycost reminded him. "Because Cain is here, and because you have become the figurehead for our organization." Zero folded his arms, blinking.

"Are you saying you don't have loyalty?"

"Not any more." Wycost replied tersely. He stared at Cain, then X and Zero. "I lost my loyalty to you when I quit." Wycost turned and began to walk out the door, shaking his head. "I'm going to grab my team and shuffle out then. Cairo will be needing us very soon. And for what it's worth, I hope you all make it out of this alive."

"That's close to defeatism, Wycost." Bastion noted with a raised eyebrow. Wycost stopped in his tracks, and his shoulders fell. He turned, his eyes covered by his sunglare goggles. But his mouth betrayed the respect that Wycost held for his former leader. Nodding his green helmeted head, Wycost informed Bastion he was right.

"Do you know why I sound defeatist, Bastion?" Bastion shook his head.

"Because you've been infected twice?"

"No." Wycost replied, turning back around. But he raised his voice, so that even as he walked out the doors of the Command Center, the others could hear him. "That's not the reason. The reason is this, my Desert Hunter; No matter how hard we try, every victory we achieve is hollow. Our wins come with losses…More than we could have ever believed back when it all began."

As Wycost's body vanished, blocked from view by the sliding doors, a silence filled the room. All eyes were downcast, each person silently acknowledging to themselves that Wycost spoke truth.

For all that he had been through, the Bronx Bombshell had learned a lot. A lot about life, more about death.

But in general, the way of the world. 

There were no handshakes exchanged, no final words. 

Each person who left that room knew that more than likely, one of them would not return. The threat was severe enough to warrant such pathetic, negative optimism.

But there was a spark, a fire inside of each of them which no flood of fury could douse. It was hope. 

And right now, that was their main weapon.

"This is Sigma. All Attack Units, report in." The tall, baldheaded reploid with the eternal frown clicked his vidphone connection to life. 

Using URFAWP's own ships, and a collection of attack weaponry from Military installations of various countries, and Sigma's own weaponry hidden in his underground bases, the overbearing leader of the Mavericks was finally stepping into action.

One by one, the four windows to his connections flickered to life, each with a different face staring back at him.

The snarling, squinty eyed Nitro Narwhal.

"Aar, Sigma! I be ready to sail the seven seas!" 

The calm, yet informative hawkish demeanor of Airborne Albatross, wings expanded into battle mode, bristling with their guns and missiles.

"Alb here. Let's get ready to tango."

The lightning quick schizophernic maverick known as Megavolt Meerkat.

"Hee heee hee…Show me the action, show me show me show me!" Sigma frowned at that comment. Meerkat cackled insanely, and Sigma shook his head.

That was one maverick general he'd never rebuild.

Then there was the short, but nonetheless lethal furred frame of Killer Koala, whose claws clacked on his arm.

"Just point me in the right direction, and I'll handle the rest."

Each with a goal. Each with their own demeanor.

Yet each was nothing more than a copy, a semi-completed reploid with the Virus ingrained in their bodies from birth. In that respect, they were the same.

Sigma nodded his head.

"I assume each of you knows what to target. A specific place where upon being destroyed, will have a widespread effect on all of the surrounding metropolises." Nitro nodded his head, blowing out a spurt of air from his blowhole.

"Aye, Captain Sigma!" Sigma nodded again, not looking at any one in particular. 

"I am counting on you to fulfill your missions. And don't underestimate the opposition. The Hunters are scrambling, and even though no one knows just where exactly we're going, that's never stopped them from tracking us down." 

Not one of the Generals paid heed to those chilling words. 

And why should they? They were already all dead.

These were just clones.

"Sigma, just tackle your target and leave the rest to us." Killer Koala brayed. "We'll be careful, all right. But we're not going soft. If they try to take us down, then we'll bloody well frag a few along with us."

Ferret cackled apart from Sigma at Koala's comment. Sigma frowned.

"Then I'd say we're set. Initiate your attacks five minutes from now. If our conference call is done, I wish you all the best of luck." Sigma clicked off the connection, and turned to Ferret.

"Any incoming threats?" Ferret checked his scanners. 

"A few jet planes, a couple tank groups…no Hunters." Ferret grinned. "I'd say it's time we got some target practice then." Sigma raised a hand.

"No…destroy the planes. But keep the Tanks. Perhaps we can use them…" Sigma rubbed his chin. 

Somewhere within the dark confines of his mind, another dangerous scythe to his plan was forming up. And as his idea bounced around, Sigma's sinister smile grew wider.

The Hunters wouldn't know what hit them.

The Maverick Hunter base was finally fully assembled. The 21st, the 17th, and the #00 were all set to go, and Wycost's ragtag team of last ditch supporters were there as well. The others looked on in respect, in stupor…

In every single emotion one could expect from a reploid who had just been brought face to face with the worst threat to ever face. For Zero, fear. For X, respect.

For Wycost, hatred and mistrust. The green Hunter ignored their eyes and kept his mind focused on his own mission.

Cain stared them all down, the individuals who would face the threat. There were familiar faces, and there were those who he had never really bothered to meet before. 

There was a reason for that. Losses were a part of life in the Hunters. To know all of them, to know their names and who they were…

When they died, their loss was that much more severe. That's why Cain kept himself somewhat distanced.

So he wouldn't have to keep a running tab on the dead.

"Maverick Hunters…" Cain began, silencing them all. Even J.K. Horn raised his Blue Blockers to give Cain his full attention. "We are facing the worst possible threat at the worst possible time. Nevertheless, you have shown me the same determination that I've come to expect from you. Some of you are still not completely dedicated to this life." Cain frowned down at them. "After this mission, you will be." Cain waved his hand around the room. "There are those of you here who will not be participating in the counterattack. This is because you do not yet possess a complete grasp of your abilities and the extent of your power. When that day comes, you will be sent out, like the elites that stand before you, to face down the foe known as Maverick. They have proven themselves, sharpened their skills in the fire known as combat." Cain stepped back. "You too will walk through this flame eventually."

Cain shook his head.

"For now, though, you can only be witnesses. Hopefully, the tide of this conflict flows with us. For if it does not, there will be no more history to write of." Cain looked at the few individuals whose name he knew well.

X, somber and focused. Zero, eyes glazed over as he cracked his knuckles for the umpteenth time. Bastion, standing protectively by Bristol, his strong arm on her shoulder, his other one balled into a fist. Bristol, her own hand covering his, looking at him in a look of worry. 

J.K. Horn, a reploid whose mission of peace had been destroyed like all the others before it, his wonderful URFAWP usurped to the sick and twisted goals of Sigma. Horn looked the most angry, and also the most defeated at the same time.

Allegro and Andante, standing together, their true enemy finally identified, their role in this historical event finally confirmed. They looked so much alike, and only their height and the slant of their eyes differed.

The Trio of the 21st. Jad, Kol and Gavin. Three reploids who understood that even though Allegro and Andante had knocked them out for a bit, were now working on their team. More importantly, they knew that to stay alive, they would need teamwork. And that was why they were in the 21st. Not because of their individual Hunter skills, which were nowhere near X's or Zero's, but because they worked as a team.

Doan, standing staunchly beside Wycost, his old friend and new teammate. His gray armor matched his usual pessimistic mood perfectly, and yet his eyes were lit up with a fire that was the hatred of Sigma. Cain had to admit it was a small irony Doan finally had something to complain about.

Then there was Wycost. The powerful green enigma, the Hunter who had returned infected, and lit the entire powderkeg that had finally been identified one hour ago. His goggles were down, and his arms were folded. Nonetheless, Cain could see the emotion in his eyes. For once, it wasn't hatred. According to X, the fire had left Wycost. And when the fire had left, it had been replaced. 

Wycost was no longer the Fiery Hunter. He was the Hunter of Ice. He was also not likely to remain within the ranks either. Cain knew the general consensus among the Hunters was to lynch Wycost when he got back, and the craziest part of it all was that Wycost no longer wished to fight.

Considering that was the only thing he was good at, it made no sense to Cain.

Then again, he'd never been infected by the Maverick Virus. 

"Some of you won't be coming back alive from this assault." Cain continued. The grim stares he received told him that his Hunters knew that possibility all too well. "But it's what you're paid to do, and it's what the world needs right now."

"Hunters, there's nothing I can do to spruce this up. The simple fact is that no amount of pep talks or parades will eliminate the uneasiness in your minds. All you can do is destroy the doubt, and trust in your abilities. The rest as they say…Is in God's hands." Cain shrugged. "Or Allah's, or Jehovah's, or Fate if you will. Whatever form of a supreme power you believe in, that's what you need to go with. You can worship the Flying Toaster for all I care, and that won't change the fact we don't know who's going to live."

Cain sighed, sitting back down. "Those who remain, including myself and J.K. Horn will be monitoring every attack group. Once you get there, you'll be on your own. We can't send reinforcements, but the hope is we can provide some overhead intel as to enemy positions. It's not much, I know. But we're all at the breaking point." Cain waved his hand. "I'm done here. Maverick Hunters, MOVE OUT. The world is in your hands."

A few last glances were exchanged, and at long last the troops warped out through the roof to their locations.

X, Bristol and the 17th to Washington D.C.

Zero and the #00 to Riyadh.

Bastion and the 21st to Rio De Janeiro.

Wycost, Doan, Allegro and Andante to Cairo.

And then there was the one wild card in all of this.

Cossack's creations, the Robot Masters of Mega Man's day, upgraded by Hazil.

They would be sent to Moscow. Cain shook his head, feeling the intense need for another dose of aspirin.

"God help us all."

Moscow had remained very much untouched by the years, having remained the same since the 1950's of the Cold War. There was the Red Square, the tall pointed spires, and the gauche coloring of green and red everywhere.

Russia was no stranger to having wars in the streets, either. The Napoleonic Wars, World War Two, it had a long history of people knocking on their doorstep.

Of course, this new attack was a first.

Moscow had never been attacked by Maverick infected reploids in its history.

The massive hovertransport expelled wave after wave of flying Bee Bomber drones, then proceeded to release the ground troops. 

These had once been proud members of URFAWP, reploids dedicated to eliminating all conflict.

Of course, they didn't think the Maverick Virus would still be around to corrupt them. And now, that mistake made by the optimistic J.K. Horn was thrusting innocent lives into danger.

Eyes that had once possessed wisdom and intelligence were now only filled with the droning commands of the Maverick Virus. The fire had left them, and moving about with a certain stupor to their actions, the Mavericks began to bombard Moscow with everything they had.

X-Busters whined furiously before unleashing horrific waves of plasma into the streets. Innocent people were obliterated in the fray, some vaporized and the rest by the exploding rubble around them. Bombs caused even more devastation, and the constant ziinnng of an occasional chain gun completed the massacre's music.

It was just outside this scene that five powerful warp signals blasted down from the sky above. They had come from the middle of Siberia, a nothingness of winter wilderness that possessed only one remarkable feature.

The castle of the presumed dead Robotics Genius, Sergei Cossack.

The light whined down and the five signals reconverted to solid matter. Each warrior had a look of solemnity in their eyes, for not all of them had mouths.

Drill Man, Bright Man, Toad Man, Ring Man, and their leader Pharaoh Man soaked in the conflict. Pharaoh Man frowned.

"They've started the party without us." He felt the need to insert a snide, rhetorical comment, and he obeyed it, assuming it was a part of his artificial intelligence growth. "What a darn shame…And we even brought the Chex Mix." 

Bright Man looked over at his leader.

"Chex Mix?" Bright Man asked, puzzled. Pharaoh waved a hand, looking back at the horror in front of them.

"A joke, Bright Man. All of you, list down the supplies." Each robot responded in the same way.

"Five E-Tanks." Pharaoh Man acknowledged. Unlike Mega Man and his little brother X, the Robot Masters of Cossack had only primary weapons systems. They drew power directly from their energy reactors, much like an X-Buster did. Mega and X were different, in that they had variable weapons systems grids, which allowed them to acquire separate weapons systems. Those however ran out of power, and required recharging by Weapons Energy capsules or pellets, or W-Tanks.

"Correction, Phare…" The silvery black and gold robot mused. "In this day and age, they use Weapons Sub Tanks." Pharaoh Man turned to face his willing four comrades, addressing them with a stern stare.

"We will be facing superior forces in this conflict. Make sure to be cautious and avoid as many attacks as you can, and use your E-Tanks if you get to critical levels. That's why we brought them along." Pharaoh Man looked at each of them one last time.

"Best of luck. Initiate attack command Kalinka 2."

That was all it took. Each Robot Master responded in their own separate part of the team attack.

Kalinka 2 was a strike meant to be used when they had the element of surprise. Which they had.

Drill Man burrowed into the ground, skimming along and using his radar systems to track the foes above him. Toad Man leapt high up in the air, bouncing from building to building while keeping an Acid Bomb in each hand to eliminate foes below him. 

Bright Man allowed himself small hops, keeping his Arm Cannon ready to spray any foes in his way. Ring Man ran over the ground, keeping a pair of rings ready in his hands.

Pharaoh Man took to jumping short hops, trying to remain in the shadows of the buildings still standing. His eyes glinted in the reflected sunlight from the tinted overhead windows, but as he jumped up into the air another time, he finally got a clear look at the chaos.

"Oh, joy…" Pharaoh Man mused, finally activating his Pharaoh Shot Blasters. Very much like Mega Man, Pharaoh Man used the particles of matter in the air for the basic proponents, then pulled in main systems energy to supercharge it. Unlike Mega Man, his plasma blasts were more unstable than the supershots, and therefore did not burn straight through targets, but exploded, like a fuel air explosive.

Of course, this gave it the kick that made it so powerful a weapon.

The targets below were far from easy. While there were two squads of ground troops firing at will, they were backed up by at least five heavily armored tanks. And of course, the main hovertransport still had its own laser cannons blasting away at anything that moved. Pharaoh Man narrowed his eyes, focusing in on the hovertransport's cockpit.

There was one figure inside, watching the display with a sickening smile, his arms folded and his ears twitching with sparks of electricity. 

The furry robot had a tail, and insulated gauntlets. It reminded Pharaoh Man of a Robot Master who had been even more of a problem to Mega Man than he had been when he was reprogrammed by Wily.

"Elec Man…this guy looks like him." Pharaoh Man reverted his eyes back to normal vision and landed, using an arm to support his weight. He brought up his right arm's wrist and activated his comm. On a scrambled frequency outside of the normal communications spectrum, the Robot Master sent out his message.

"We have two squads of troops, at least five heavily armored tanks, and the main laser turrets on the hovertransport itself. Take caution; that big ship may be harboring more forces."

"Understood, Pharaoh Man." Ring Man responded. Pharaoh Man saw him twenty feet away, his back to the wall so the passing troops could not see him. Hearing him wasn't a problem as the noise from their destruction blocked out any auxiliary sounds. Pharaoh Man charged his arms even further, feeling his fingers curl around the balls of energy in his palms.

"Ring Man, on my count, give them a double salvo. I'll follow up with an airborne bombing. Toad Man, do you hear me?" 

An affirmative croak came over the commlink. "Toad, I'll need some Bomb cover while Ring Man and I pull away." 

Finally, the lone squad that had wandered away from the pack turned into the alley that Ring Man was cowered in. Pharaoh Man raised a hand.

"NOW!" The shout drew the attention of the mavericks to himself, and their Busters went up. That was enough time for the quickdrawing Ring Man to hurl both deadly boomerangs into their midst. The first pass wiped out three and sliced off two Busters from the survivors. The return pass took off a head.

As the mavericks screamed in pain, Pharaoh Man unleashed his own fastballs of energy, taking the time to properly aim them at the remaining three. The charged blasts skimmed along, quivering slightly in the air as they pulsated in anger. When they finally hit home, they dispersed in an explosion of power and light, disintegrating one maverick and hurling the other two on their backs.

The rest of the Mavericks finally realized that something odd was going on, for the next squad and three tanks began to make haste towards their position.

Toad Man was true to his word, flinging a trio of Acid Bombs into their path, burning the ground away and creating a trench. Two tanks fell into the pit with ease, but the troops jumped over it, firing away with their Busters.

Cursing, Pharaoh, Toad and Ring Man all dashed behind the stone barriers of the alleyway's streets. Ducking his head down, Pharaoh Man cringed.

"This is not good, people!" Toad Man squawked out in surprise as another shot slammed into the wall.

Only this shot came from the still oncoming Tank, and it blew the wall to pieces.

When the dust cleared, Pharaoh Man, Toad Man and Ring Man found themselves staring into death itself.

Pharaoh Man's wide eyes betrayed the fear in his body, even as he still kept charging up a shot in each hand.

"Oh, no…" Every maverick had their Buster pointed at him, and the tank's main cannons lowered down, until Pharaoh Man could see the very back of it.

And the powerful ten inch shell inside of it.

Across the world in Rio De Janeiro, the 21st was just landing into the warzone. The situation was exactly the same, with a giant hovertransport with main cannons blasting away at hiding places, creating an open field for its smaller dispersing forces to take potshots at the fleeing populace.

However, the Maverick General that was leading this front did not contain himself within the ship. Opening up the top escape hatch, the mighty winged maverick scratched his beak for a moment before bursting up into the air by aid of his thrusters.

His metallic wingspan glimmered in the light, failing to give evidence to the hordes of devastating missile packs and gun racks hidden inside of them.

A half mile away, the 21st "Lightning Strike" Unit finally appeared. It was easy for them to sight their target.

However, their target wasted no time in laying down heavy laser cannon fire, forcing them to break in all directions. 

Bastion popped his wings out and activated the repulsors, soaring into the air above the strafed ground. His face a stone mask to the forces they were facing, the Commander of the 21st whipped back his dark brown hair and pulled out his twin beam sabers. Igniting them both, he pushed the hilts together until blue blade met with purple, separated by a handle of silver.

"Beam staff formed." Bastion noted to himself with little satisfaction. He activated his wrist comm and looked down at the forces.

"Gavin, take the Hunters around you and make zigzag tracks towards the main hovertransport! We have to disable those guns!" Looking over, he spotted the other half of his meager unit. "Jad, Kol! Get your half of the squad into the town, and take out the rampagers! I'll lay down cover fire for your escapes!" 

"Roger, boss!" Gavin grunted, whipping out his own orange tinted saber. He raised it up in the air and whooped a powerful war cry before charging at the transport, dashing like mad and dodging the energy bolts skimming towards him. Thankfully, the 21st took orders well, and they were good at what they did. Only one Hunter fell to the laser cannon assault, struck down even before he had had a chance to activate his thrusters.

Bastion brought his wings forward, until their tips pointed at the massive ship's main laser turret. Glaring through teary, angry eyes at the loss of a comrade, he clenched his fists.

"The Mavericks…DAMN THEM!" A simple mental command activated the Angel's Advantage Wing Blasters, and the suit's deadly offensive technique finally came into focus.

The powerful energy that radiated from its surface increased, but more so along the jagged lightning bolt that ran down the axis of each wing. A tiny ball of crackling white energy formed at each wingtip, growing larger and larger.

It took only two seconds to fully charge each one. And then Bastion let his shots fly.

Two powerful screaming blasts of electrical energy scorched down through the sky, as if the clouds had parted and heaven itself had unleashed its furious rage upon the earth below.

The turret received a direct hit from each bolt, and within microseconds was sparking like mad. Its safety controls overloaded, the turret blew in a shower of sparks and melted metal. The rest of the ship had suffered from the blow as well, as Bastion saw quite clearly the crackling power stream through the ship like an unleashed demon.

His troops made it there safely, the threat of imminent death gone. However, the transport's hangar opened up, and more heavy hovertanks and maverick ground squadrons began to appear, firing furiously.

Bastion had complete confidence in his men. He had trained them, shown them everything he knew. From his own experience as a Hunter, and even from the darker days of the Jihad.

A Jihad to whom J.K. Horn had worked on the opposite side for, making the weapons that had killed many of Bastion's friends.

But now Bastion knew that Horn had aided Bristol greatly in the design of his new Flight Armor. That tidbit alone had given him much to think about. And as he had released his Dual Bolts into the Infected URFAWP Hovertransport, Bastion had finally realized something.

He had killed Horn's friends. Horn had killed his friends. They were just doing their job. And if Bastion wanted revenge on Horn for injustice, he would have to start with himself first.

Forgive, yes. But even though Bastion would not destroy Horn, he could never forget.

He shook his head and focused back on the fiery battles below. By the Hovertransport, his Hunters were heavily engaged, giving their all and dodging as many blows as they could.

However, a Hovertank's main gun, even if it doesn't hit directly, does a number with shrapnel. 

Bastion turned, flying over with his beam staff still in hand to follow the progress of Jad, Kol and the rest of his men. The street scuffles seemed more out of place, both Hunter and Maverick ducking behind cover and proceeding cautiously. Bastion frowned and readied himself to fly down to aid them.

It was that moment that a different struggle readied itself in his eyes. A hundred powerful gunblasts ricketed from above, the entire pack aimed at his lower back.

Thankfully, the heavy armor design of the Flight Armor's Main Wingpack saved his life. The shots bounced off, creating only minor indentations.

But it awoke Bastion to his senses, and he flew to the side, turning about and readying his staff in his left hand, while he activated his flight goggles, feeling the wind in his eyes drop to nothing as his sleek pair of red tinted HUD goggles slipped over his eyes.

And he saw his foe, also in the air, his arms folded, his right wing pulling itself back to Flight Mode. The sunlight, thankfully above them, did not cause glare, and Bastion's narrowing eyes could make out every detail.

A whitish silvery body, an imposing set of wings, and a long beak that contained a laser cannon.

Bastion knew who was flying above him. It was this Maverick that had granted him his Powerstorm Wings in the Fifth Uprising, more than a year ago. His empty hand clenched up into a fist as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Airborne Albatross. Alive and well again, I see." The cocky Maverick flew down so he could face Bastion at eye level.

Each aerial duelist stared darkly at the other, gauging each other after a long period of not seeing one another. Angry power floated between them, a power not seen for ages. Finally, the Maverick extended his talons and clacked the side of his arm.

"No thanks to you. And I see that you now possess the ability to fly as well." Bastion grunted.

"This is my second set. The first came from you." Albatross grated his beak furiously.

"Graverobber."

"Baby killer." Bastion hissed back. Albatross shrugged.

"It's all words, my dear Hunter. I can still recognize you, even without your helmet. I can see the fury in your eyes." Bastion tightened his grip.

"Before I destroy you, I have one question." Albatross guffawed for a moment.

"I believe it'll be the other way around, but I will answer your question." Bastion separated his beam staff so he held one in each hand, then readied his stance.

"Are you rebuilt? Is that why you remember?" Airborne shook his head, giving Bastion a look of angry glee.

"Oh no. Not by a longshot, my dear Hunter. My body is nothing more than a blank, a shell of the original maverick. My mind's attitude was kept from a backup of my personality stored safely away by the thoughtful Fluid Ferret. But I hold much more information than before." Albatross's grin went wider. "For instance, I know your name. BASTION. And I know how you lost your Powerstorm Wings, oh my yes. WYCOST blew them up." Albatross let out a long caw. "Even though he escaped our ranks once, the poor fool still could not resist us for long! That is the power of the Maverick, my dear Bastion! No matter how hard you try, you will never completely destroy us! We are the weeds of this pathetic planet, and have acted as such for years." Albatross drew his hands back, readying his talons into a powerful clawed grip. "We will live. It is now your time to die."

Albatross let out a long scream before charging towards Bastion. 

The Hunter wasted no time in returning the charge with his own attack, his sabers held high.

In the skies above Rio De Janeiro, a struggle for survival began.

In Washington D.C, the Military forces had been easily overtaken by the more heavily armed maverick invaders, and the humans had been killed. The reploids had suffered what might have been thought of as the worse fate, condemned to be infected and to join the ranks of the Mavericks under the double spearhead of Sigma and Fluid Ferret. 

For the time being, Sigma had not unleashed all his strength upon the town, if only because his sick mind thought it might be more enjoyable to tear the untouched foundation of the United States to its knees, destroying every single national monument while the Hunters tried uselessly to combat them.

That is, if the Hunters could even locate them in the first place. Sigma didn't doubt that, though. There had been so much fighting going on, the news was all over the airwaves. So he waited, plodding back and forth inside the protected cockpit of the hovertransport, his massive arms folded, and that sick twisted grin adorning his face.

"But who shall face me?" Sigma mused. "Will it be that annoying X? The great Zero? Both, perhaps? Or someone else not known to me…" Sigma shrugged. "They will come. Let it be decided then." 

Sigma checked again. The tanks outside were still pointed right at his ship, though they weren't firing. 

Of course, why would they? There weren't US Troops inside of them.

Only mavericks. They were to be a part of Sigma's sick game, a final humiliation for whoever showed up.

Fluid Ferret made his presence known behind Sigma with a cough. Sigma turned his large body, staring down at the wiry reploid that stood only as high as X.

"Yes?" Sigma queried, hoping Ferret brought important news. Ferret grinned and flashed a thumbs up with a clawed hand.

"Our sensors are picking up incoming warp signals. Lots of them, too. Seems like they musta sent an entire Unit to tangle with us." Sigma cackled.

"Oh, good. Company's coming, then? Ready the…" Sigma giggled for a bit, thinking of the death he would inflict upon whoever showed up. "…Party Favors." Ferret clacked his metal teeth together.

"Sounds good, boss. I'm on it!" Ferret ran out the door, once again leaving Sigma to his thoughts.

The brooding maverick shook his head.

"Oh, what a glorious endless struggle we live in…" 

At long last, the warp signals crashed into the ground, revealing who had warped to Sigma's hot spot. 

The 17th Unit, from the look of it. No Zero. Only X, adorned in a shimmering Armor Set that Sigma knew all too well.

"Oh my, X…You brought the Golden Armor to fight me?" Sigma grinned. "This is a challenge I shall take with earnest." He picked up his comm. "Tank mavericks, begin fire! Be sure to hit only minor areas, and DECREASE SHOT POWER!"

The Tanks responded, raising their turrets and beginning to unleash bolts of laser fire upon Sigma's Hovertransport. Minor scratches along the hull at best, and Sigma could barely feel the ship shudder. And then one tank relayed a message to the Hunters.

"Maverick Hunters, this is Corporal William Danning! We're firing on the ship, but we're not doing damage here!" Sigma grinned. There had been a Corporal William Danning, fifteen minutes ago. Now, he was a smoking pile of ashes on the ground beside the tank he had occupied.

Sigma's prediction was true to the nose, as outside the wary X received the message through his comm system. Clicking his transmitter, he nodded his head.

"We understand! Leave the Mavericks to us!"

"Roger!" The fake Danning replied, shutting off his comm. X turned to Bristol, knowing that the rest of his Unit could handle themselves. But he'd made a promise to Bastion to keep her alive.

"Stick close by me, Bristol!" X yelled over the tank's laserfire. Bristol nodded, readying her saber and igniting the blade.

"Time to show this bloody boor what for, eh? PIP PIP!" Bristol screamed, charging at the huge ship. X's eyes widened in shock, then he dashed after her, firing a shot of his Hyper Cannon to deflect the plasma bolt that screamed down towards the rash female reploid.

"Careful, Bristol! This ship means business!" Bristol whipped herself about, staring X down with a fiery glare.

"And you think I don't?" X's eyes widened again as a nearby secondary plasma turret fired another blast.

Bristol flipped her body around, taking her saber and neatly deflecting the shot right back into the turret's main body, causing the gun to explode. She looked back at X with a no-nonsense stare.

"We came here to do a job. And I'll bloody well do it. I don't know WHERE I got the ability to fight like a crazed banshee, X, but all I need to know right now is that I CAN." Bristol jetted away from the Hovertransport towards Washington D.C, and the Maverick Squadrons that had deployed when they had landed.

X shook his head.

"That's one damn fine lady there. Bastion sure fetched himself a catch…" He blinked again, seeing that most of his Unit was charging the Hovertransport, Busters blazing and sabers swinging.

Whoever was inside wouldn't last long.

But up above, Sigma watched the Hunter's advance with great interest, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes yes yes…" Sigma cackled. "Just a little closer now…YES!" Sigma picked up his comm, and let loose a command on all frequencies.

"THIS IS SIGMA! FIRE AT WILL, MAVERICKS!" 

That command froze X in his tracks for two reasons. One, he knew the voice, and what it meant being here. And two, because he couldn't see any Mavericks.

As his other Hunters also stopped dead, looking about with wary eyes, X suddenly picked out what that statement meant.

Every single Tank about the Hovertransport lowered its guns to point at the Hunters, then began to whine as their shot power was raised to maximum.

"Oh God no…" X whispered, not believing his eyes. "MOVE, PEOPLE! IT'S A TRAA…" X didn't have time to finish his sentence, as every single tank unleashed it's shot volley upon the Hunters standing close to the massive ship of doom. 

Hunter after Hunter vanished in the blink of an eye, blown apart or disintegrated by the laserfire.

X witnessed the death of 75% of his troops at that moment. Death filled his eyes, and once more a hollowness filled him.

A hollowness that was soon replaced by another emotion.

Rage. 

"Sigma…" X growled, his fists tightening as his X-Buster began to charge up. "SIGMA!!!" X jumped up to the top of the Hovertransport, switching to his Narwhal Cannon, and continuing to charge up.

At long last, his Explosive Narwhal Cannon finished its charge, and a thick layer of explosive spikes appeared all over his body.

X fired. 

The streaming, streaking explosive missiles tracked onto every opposing Tank, slamming home and exploding.

All of the traitorous opposition vanished in a seemingly endless amount of explosions.

And then X's comm reactivated.

A cackling voice came over the line.

"Did you like my little surprise, X?" X gritted his teeth, pointing his Buster down to the ship's hull.

"You killed them all, Sigma."

"And they were going to kill me." Sigma replied calmly. "It is the way of the world, X. Kill or be killed. But I did this for another reason. Tell me, X…How does it feel to lose almost all of your Unit because of a blunder?" X fought back the hot tears in his eyes, knowing now was not the time to show pain or weakness.

"I'll kill you for this, Sigma!" Sigma laughed again.

"Oh my yes. The pacifist X shall destroy me once again. But we'll see, X. First, I have something else I must do. I came here also to destroy a nation. And what is the symbol of this nation, X?" X's eyes widened again.

"You wouldn't dare…" He hissed. Sigma laughed, a hollow and cruel laugh.

"I exist to commit genocide. There is nothing I wouldn't do, X." 

True to his word, the Hovertransport's main cannon rotated, targeting in at the very center of Washington D.C…

To the very symbol of the nation.

"Oh, I've always wanted to blow up the White House…" Sigma cackled. 

X saw its turret begin to draw in energy, readying to fire a final cruel blast.

"NO!" X screamed. There had been too much death as it was. He would not allow Sigma the ultimate victory.

So he dashed. He dashed, using all of his thruster fuel to reach the turret.

He smashed into it with a shoulder shove, pushing the barrel aside away from its intended target.

It still fired, though. An enormous blast of laser energy was unleashed, streaking harmlessly by the White House…

But still exploding somewhere deep within the city.

Sigma stood inside his cockpit, realizing what a perfect time it was to take X down hard. 

He hit the main laser turret's self-destruct button.

The explosion carried X off of his hold on the ship, flinging him into the air and slamming him down into the bloody grass, next to charred smoking tanks and dead Hunters. X grimaced in pain, letting out a scream. What initial pain had been caused to his shoulder by the rash shove had increased with that explosion. Even worse, his right arm was weakened, and next to useless in a fight.

He drained one of his four Sub-Tanks and crawled to his feet, activating his comm.

"This is Commander X." X rasped. "If there are any Hunters still alive, make your way to where that laser shot landed and do what you can to help out…" His comm fritzed out at that moment, another system shot to hell by his abuse.

But the Hovertransport's loudspeaker still worked.

"Hoo hoo! I must say X, you do a lot to stop death, don't you?" Sigma's booming voice was loud. X stared up at it, readying his left arm into a Buster.

"COME OUT AND FACE ME!" X screamed. Sigma chuckled.

"First things first. I have someone here who has an old score to settle with you before we face off."

The Hovertransport's Hangar Bay opened up again, and a figure leapt out.

Thin.

Wiry.

With gleaming claws in the sunlight.

X's vision blurred over in the rage that figure brought to him.

"FERRET…" X hissed, switching over to his Koala Slash, readying his claws that sprouted from his wrist's gauntlet. 

The Maverick frontflipped until he was only ten feet from X, his claws primed. Fluid Ferret grinned.

"Been a long time, X."

"A long time coming." X growled back. "You almost destroyed me the last time we faced off…I swore I'd tear you to pieces for that." Ferret outstretched his arms.

"Well, here's your chance, bigshot!" Ferret grinned. "But I'll warn you, I'm not going down easy." X turned his right arm into a Buster, discarding the claws from it and preparing a Charge Shot. He raised his Buster and gave Ferret a dead stare, a stare of cold death approaching.

"The Devil fights to his last breath. Let the battle begin."

"LET'S GET GOING!" Zero yowled, whooping out his maddening war cry as he ignited his green tinted beam saber. 

His Special Unit was composed of individuals who were much like himself. Go-getters, all special ranked Hunters in the force that possessed a warrior's spirit unmatched by many. Of course, they also had to take orders. That was because Zero knew they could do the job, if he would point them in the right direction.

That was his job as the Commander of the Unit #00. Telling his killers where to fire their cannons and swing their energy blades. And it suited Zero's purposes just fine. He still got the job done, and he didn't have to pussyfoot his way around them.

Riyadh's arid air was calm, at least. If the wind was blowing, there would be sand that might get in their eyes. The sun was setting at his position, while over in Rio De Janeiro and Washington D.C. it would only be midday. The darkening sky was something else to consider as well, for it would give cover.

To his own Unit. But more so to the mavericks, who had already made a foothold in the burning stone ruins of the ancient structures. There were newer buildings as well, but Riyadh was a city whose history was its culture. The destruction of the masonwork would strike a horrendous blow to those here.

Zero took his time, leaping up to one of the surviving building's rooftops and looking about himself with his probing eyes. His troops were shuffling through the rubble filled alleyways, all ready for combat. On occasion they did find meager opposition in their wake, and disposed of it quickly.

Zero was glad to see that they were suffering no injuries. Of course, like himself they didn't stand to take injuries.

For every wound they received, ten more was inflicted on their enemies. That was their average ratio.

The human populace had either fled, or they were lying dead in the street. Zero tried to put their open mouthed screams of pain out of his mind as he moved along.

There was enough to worry about.

"We're approaching the hovertransport, Zero!" His commlink flared to life with the news, and brought Zero back to reality.

"Roger that. Proceed with caution and take out the main laser turret! We don't need it playing Duck Hunt with us if things get hot." 

As he approached the transport, close enough to make out the details of the assault. He watched with confident pride as his men hacked at the turret, then drew its fire as they escaped so the next person could take a shot at it.

Then the hangar door in the rear of the craft slid open at last. Zero raised his wrist to his mouth to speak in his commlink.

"Door opening on the rear! Watch out for attack!" Some of his men responded to the call, while a few remained to knock out the turret. That's when Zero decided that his place was with his men, right in with the action.

So he moved in closer. When he made a jump up to the top of the ship, he was pleased to notice that the laser turret was nothing more than a sparking base and several small hacked pieces of gunbarrel.

And then the loudspeaker came to life.

"If it isn't the great Zero himself, come to destroy our happy invasion!" Zero's head whipped around as he tried to find the sound, but realized he couldn't.

"Show yourself!" Zero yelled out, grasping his saber firmly with both hands. The voice chuckled, an odd grunting noise that sounded more like a cough.

"Why? Do you wish to face me?" Zero's eyes narrowed.

"I've never let a challenge down before. So if you want to know, yes. I have to take you out so we can secure Riyadh." The voice made the odd grunting noise again.

"Very well. I suggest you look behind you then…I'm coming up!" Zero's head turned in a powerful swivel, following up with a quick slash of his saber.

It was unneeded though. If there had been someone there, it would have been wounded. He just hit open air.

Zero did notice that the roof of the craft began to open up twenty feet away from him. And then a figure leapt out of it, sealing the hovercraft shut as it landed.

Zero glared angrily. He knew all too well who he was facing.

"Killer Koala. X destroyed you before, you know." Koala clacked his animalian claws together and grunted again.

"But of course! With his blasted supersuits. But tell me, Zero. Can you take me on as well?" Zero grinned.

"Who do you think taught him to fight in the first place?" Zero drew his saber to its full length.

His Unit could handle the rest of the tanks and Maverick ground forces themselves.

This Maverick General was his.

Koala drew his claws in, giving Zero a small smile that hinted at something he was hiding.

"Sigma made some improvements to all of our systems from the last Uprising. This one should put us on par." 

With his claws pulled back, Koala clenched his hands into fists. And then yellow fire sprouted from his wrist gauntlets.

Zero's eyes widened.

"Wrist sabers?" Koala cackled, sliding the thin energy blades across each other, before kneeling down and scorching the roof of the hovertransport into melted slag.

"Oh yes. Do you still want to face me?"

"I'm the Crimson Hunter for a reason, Maverick." Zero growled. "You'll die, like every other who has come before me."

In the dimming night of Riyadh, with the heat of the desert vanishing from view, Hunter and Maverick met on the field of battle.

It was more than a duel for Riyadh.

It was a struggle for life.

"Wycost, where are we?" Doan's question was well voiced as he unsteadily took in the view of where they had landed. 

Wycost crossed his arms, not looking directly at Doan as he activated his Transmission Equipment. The antanna popped out of the powerful communications package on the side of his head, quietly tuning in on all frequencies. The most likely carrier bands were brought up on Wycost's HUD display on his goggles, and he quickly scanned through them.

He nodded in approval when he had hacked into the right frequency.

"I'm listening in on the Maverick Communications. I can also trace their locations within a few feet." Doan blinked in surprise.

That's a lot of hardware in that thing. When did the Hunters come up with that?" Wycost shook his head as he raised his glasses, exposing his icy eyes again.

"They didn't. It's a design I was almost completed with when I left the HQ to join URFAWP. I never thought I'd need it…" Wycost shook his head. "I didn't think Sigma would ever make it back." Wycost shrugged. "If you wanted to know, Cairo's city limits are four miles away from us to the North. I thought it important to come in packing." Doan blinked again.

"Say what?" Wycost looked over at him, slightly amused. 

"You didn't think I would have us march into a warzone with only the weapons on our backs, did you?" Doan opened his mouth to speak out again, when he was silenced by six warp signals crashing to earth beside him.

Doan swiveled about, his right hand reaching for his beam lance automatically as he awaited to assess the situation.

Allegro and Andante accounted for two of the signals, as they materialized into existence. The other four blinked in, shrinking down to a height of three feet, longer than they were tall.

"Landchaser Cycles?!" Doan uttered in surprise. Wycost nodded.

"When you're faced with a dangerous situation, give yourself every advantage. This is one of them I bargained we might need, especially if we're faced with a large amount of tanks and armored mechs."

Allegro and Andante nodded their approval as they absorbed in the situation. They were as dedicated to this mission as Doan or Wycost was, finally realizing their rage that had been aimed at Horn had found its true target in the shape of whatever was running the show here.

"Wycost, what are we facing here?" Doan asked calmly. "You've got the headgear, give us a report!" 

Wycost sighed for a moment, flipping down his glasses and reactivating the HUD's schematics of the various signals. Reselecting the Maverick Carrier Wave that was scrambled, he hacked into it and let his Interdictor software decode the snow into coherent sounds.

"This is Maverick Leader 02, over?"

"Narwhal here, aye! Report, laddie!"

"Sir, Cairo is putting up little to no resistance. We expect that it will be taken within fifteen minutes." Narwhal laughed for a moment, a long ominous laugh that made Wycost's eyes darken.

It had been Nitro Narwhal who had infected Wycost the first time, back in the early stages of the Fifth Uprising. Wycost began to pinpoint where the various transmissions were emanating from.

The results surprised him. While the Maverick clusters were in Cairo, Narwhal's signal was nowhere near it. It was miles away, south of Wycost's position.

"Odd…" Wycost muttered softly, still harboring a stone frown for his adversary. Narwhal continued with his tirade, unaware that the Green Hunter was listening in as he spoke.

"That's good to know. Be sure to have your teams out of there within twenty minutes, or ye'll be washed away like all the other sea dogs now."

"That's an affirmative, sir." The Maverick Sergeant replied, shutting off his connection.

Wycost flipped the connection off, rubbing his chin and turning to Allegro and Andante.

"You two know this area better than me. What's south of here?" Allegro guffawed.

"Desert, mostly." Andante suddenly raised his head in shock.

"No…" Andante shook his head, his wide eyes disbelieving. "Wycost, what was said on the line?" Wycost grunted.

"It seems that the leader of this merry shuckamuck is a Maverick known as Nitro Narwhal. He's the odd signal, because he's the only one not in Cairo. He's south of us. He said something to his troops about moving away from Cairo within twenty minutes."

Andante took his head into his arms, groaning.

"Aah, Christ!" Andante gritted his teeth. "There's only one thing of tactical value south of us, at that distance with your maverick. That thing is the Aswan Dam."

Doan and Wycost blinked for a moment, and then finally the terrifying reality of the situation struck them.

"Enujii…" Doan whispered. Wycost didn't speak, he only set his jaw and ran over to one of the stationary Landchasers, activating the repulsors and bringing the main motor up to speed.

He whipped his head around, and over the roar of the engine, shouted out a command to his three troopers.

"Doan! Take Allegro and Andante to Cairo and clear out as much resistance as you can! I'm heading south of here to stop Nitro Narhwal!" 

Under the dim of the night sky settling upon them, Wycost finally gunned his cycle's thrusters to max, blasting away from the others three and melting a pocket of sand into hot glass shards.

Doan gritted his teeth and turned to the other two.

"We'd best do as he says. Am I right in assuming we have less than twenty minutes to save the day before calamity occurs?" Allegro snorted.

"Yeah. But I don't take orders, pal. I'm here for revenge on the Mavericks." Andante raised a hand, placing it on Allegro's shoulder. With a look of concern and fear, he shook his head.

"Allegro, your fury tactics aren't gonna stack up in this situation. We have to work with Doan here!" 

The smaller, fiery reploid jerked his head up and gave his twin brother a look of disbelief.

"Andante, you going soft on me?" Andante shook his head, his mouth curling into a half frown.

"I have warned you before. One day, that temper of yours is going to get you killed." Andante bit his tongue. "And considering our run of luck, that could be today."

Allegro chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few moments, then bared his teeth and turned away from Andante, activating his own bike's motor.

"I'll take my own Goddamn Chances. This is my life, and if I croak, I'll do it my way." Andante began to mouth a return warning, but his smaller twin blasted off, heading in the opposite direction from Wycost's dust trail.

Andante stood there for a few moments, finally letting out his ragged breath and hunching his shoulders in. He turned to Doan, and offered an apologetic look.

"He's like that at times. But he's not a bad person." Doan shrugged.

"You know, he's not that different from how Wycost used to be." Andante raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Your green friend seems calm and collected now. What changed him?" Doan shut his eyes for a moment, wondering how much he could say, and how much his friend would want him to keep to himself. Finally, he nodded and opened his eyes. He fixated a somber glare on Andante.

"Wycost changed because his friends died. On his watch. He feels responsible for their deaths." Andante didn't push it any farther, opting instead to silence the shakes that ran down his back.

"I'll take your word on it. In any case, we had best follow him. Allegro has a habit of…ending up on the wrong end of the gun at times."

Doan silently acknowledged the truth in that, climbing aboard the third Landchaser and bringing its systems to speed. Andante did the same thing, and they gave each other one final look of well wishing before they took off.

Three reploids in one direction, towards Cairo and the seemingly endless army inside of its walls.

The lone Wycost sped off down his own track, towards Nitro Narwhal and his own mission, of vital importance to the other. His black goggles were down, and he variated between infared and normal scans to keep his bearings. His mouth was tight, pressed against the metallic skull of his head.

His eyes, the only part of his face that could not be seen from the outside, was perhaps the most chilling piece of his façade.

They were ice. But a melted ice, a pair of orbs filled with dread, and continually bringing up the images of those who had died before because he had not risen to the challenge.

Isaiah.

Those in his New York Unit.

The fellow members of URFAWP. Each being who had fallen because Wycost was not quick enough, not strong enough to overcome the obstacles placed in front of him, seemed to return from the grave, their ghosts wailing at him, racking the tortured minds inside his helmeted head.

Their presence instilled new power within him. A power based out of helplessness, and a rage to overcome it.'

The citizens of Cairo would not join the ranks of those who had died because Wycost had not responded in time. 

There would not be the blood of more innocent lives on his hands.

"Not tonight…" Wycost choked back. "NOT TONIGHT!" With a newfound power, he brought his thrusters up to maximum speed, popping the cycle in a wheelie.

But he was still minutes away from his destination.

Aswan Dam.

Aswan Dam, with its four years of stored Cairo River Water behind it. And he knew all too well what Nitro Narwhal was planning.

A few well placed charges of his Explosive Horn Bombs in that concrete, and it would all come tumbling down.

Cairo would be flooded, washed out into the Mediterranean.

That was if he failed.

Wycost would not fail.

Killer Koala was a fierce opponent. Zero would give the Maverick that much. 

The last time this particular creation had faced off with the Hunters, it had been X who had beaten him to the punch…

Literally. It was the use of X's Second Armor Set, and the special Weapon Shoryuken, a flaming uppercut punch that had defeated the Maverick before.

This time, the combat between Maverick General and Unit Commander of the Hunters was forged not with Buster and claw, but beam saber and wrist saber.

A thin line of sweat creased itself on Zero's brow as he slammed Koala's right hand saber away from the lunge, taking a small hop into the air to avoid the followup swipe from the Maverick's left.

He came down with a rolling downwards slice, his saber lashing out with even more power, slamming into the dirt and scorching it.

Koala also backflipped away from the power of Zero's attack, being as on the level as the fierce Crimson Hunter was. His furry ears, large, but designed to give him ultrasensitive hearing twitched involuntarily as the wind blew past them.

The pink of the sunset had completely vanished, and in the streets of Riyadh, the dueling pair was illuminated only by the glow that came from their blades. After all, the street lights had all been destroyed.

The #00 Unit had surrounded the dueling pair in a cautious half circle, knowing it was not their place to step into the ring and aid Zero, but nonetheless offering their support. 

All the other Mavericks had been neutralized, but Koala did not notice. Everything outside of a thirty foot radius was a blur to his sensors. Full dedication of his mind and body had been put to face Zero.

There would be victory for the Mavericks this day. Koala would not fail his Master Sigma.

The two opponents charged towards each other in a burst of dash thrusters, holding their blades steady for the strike. Neither one had landed a single blow to this point, but Zero decided it was time to change that.

He let his left hand reach down to his waist, quickly bringing up a Rakuhouha Pellet. One of the few things from his conquests in the Fourth Uprising he had kept, it would certainly put a dent in Koala's tactics.

Koala's left hand was positioned for a horizontal slice, while his right was somewhat drawn back. Zero's eagle eyes instantly saw it, and realized that while he could easily deflect the first strike, the right hand was coiled in a position of unpredictability. He could not tell which direction that hand would land at, and that undermined his chances for success. One solid blow with that wicked weapon on Koala's wrists and Zero could cease to exist.

This entire thought took place within the blink of a second. Then Zero set his eyes and shifted his gaze.

_Time to put your money where your mouth is, Zero._

Zero did deflect the left hand's strike, and as his face was inches from Koala's, the Maverick wrinkled his stubby nose and grinned devilishly. In the corner of his eye, he saw the Maverick's right hand begin to swing forward, felt the heat from the contained plasma warm the sweat on his face.

So Zero did the unpredictable move. He didn't dodge left. He didn't jump back.

He went under the strike, then sprang up with an uppercut, his knuckles braced by the saber still held in his hand.

Koala took the blow full in the chin, stunned that Zero had made a move. As he was slammed up into the air, he quickly flipped and readied his wrist sabers for a counterstrike.

But Zero had no intention of jumping up after the Maverick. Instead, with genius borne out of his years of fighting, he set his pitcher's stance into place and flung the activated Rakuhouha energy orb up after Koala.

As the Maverick's eyes widened, his mouth began to unleash itself for a scream of surprise.

That cry was never made. Koala's arms were sluggish by the severe blow to his head, and could not deflect the tiny energy packed bomb. It struck him dead center in the chest, finally unleashing its rage upon the target that fractured its fragile shell.

The night air in Riyadh suddenly flared for one brief moment into a brilliance, as if the sun had returned and blinked upon the desert surrounded city.

The concussion wave spiraled outward, accompanied by the few energy bursts that had not struck into the Maverick.

Then silence.

The lightburst faded from view, and the low rumbling ceased. Zero kept his saber lit, holding himself in a defensive posture.

It was not needed. In the dimness of the night air, Zero could make out the shattered and torn figure of what had been Killer Koala. His body was riddled with holes, his limbs shorn off, the wiring still sparking, fruitlessly trying to restore the connections.

What red fluid that served as his blood that had not been vaporized upon contact with the energy strike was now slowly trickling from the gaping wounds.

Zero shook his head, not looking away from the Maverick. Koala's head tried to turn up, his mouth opening.

The Maverick was too far gone. But in a final feeble effort, Killer Koala was trying to make his presence known. Zero lowered his saber and walked towards the corpse. With cold steely eyes, he looked down on the Maverick and shook his head.

"It seems you've lost." Koala's breaths came short and ragged, his mouth grimaced in a death mask of pain.

"At least…I put up a good fight." Koala's head slumped back to the sandy street, and his eyes rolled up until he was staring straight up at the sky. "Perhaps…perhaps now I can leave for a better place."

His last statement completed, Killer Koala succumbed to the void. His primary systems deactivated, and his Control Chip shut off the connection to the rest of his mind.

Zero shook his head, silently acknowledging the passing of another great warrior into the void. 

"Sometimes this happens." The long blond haired Hunter referred to the last testament of Koala's, where he wished he was leaving for a better place.

When a reploid was in the final stages of death, the Virus lost its hold on them, fearfully as Zero assumed, trying to jump ship like drowned rats. If they were completely immolated at once, this didn't happen. Sometimes it didn't happen at all, like with Sigma.

But the others. The others who were infected, or had memories of before their lives as Mavericks, or those who were natural born Mavericks as well.

Sometimes, when the cloudy fog of the Virus lifted from their minds, granting them a few precious seconds of freedom before they passed on. It was said by those who had seen it that in those moments, the happiness returned. Happiness to finally be rid of the thing that had controlled them, made them no better than puppets.

So Zero did the only thing he could for the passed away Maverick. He reached his hand down and shut Killer Koala's eyelids. A tradition carried on for Centuries by the humans was one he had adopted for fellow warriors. 

He lowered his head for a moment, letting his mind sort out the jarbled mess the fight's end had created. With his own eyes shut, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Koala, you fought bravely, and for the wrong side. I do hope you find some peace wherever you go."

The simple scientific thing to say for reploids would be to scoff and reply that once a reploid died, that was the end of it. They could be partially restored by rebuilding their body and implanting their Control Chip, but who they had been would vanish forever.

Some reploids scoffed at this. Humans had always been optimists, talking of the lands beyond death's hand, of the happy hunting grounds, the fields of plenty, of heaven.

Some reploids also believed they went here. But if that was the case, no resurrected reploid could tell them. It was if they carried no memory of this experience when they returned, as if like so many other small details of their persona, it had vanished forever. Zero had wondered where he would go when he died. A simple assumption would be Hell.

He was, after all, the Devil's son. 

"Commander?" One of Zero's troops raised his voice and asked the one word question. Zero stood up to his full height, opening his eyes and focusing back in on his location.

Riyadh. Night time. Zero turned about to face his men.

"Have all the Mavericks been neutralized?" Zero asked. The bluish gray troop nodded his helmeted head, raising the Buster on his arm for emphasis.

"Affirmative. Killer Koala was the last of them, and you just took care of him." Zero's piercing green eyes burrowed into the back of his troop's head as he spoke.

"Then let's get back to base. If one of the other teams fails to take out their batch of Mavericks, we may be making another trip back." Zero's eye began to twitch, and he noted that although he had taken no damage, the strike had worn him out nonetheless. A reploid can't stay on his feet forever, and needs occasional periods of stasis.

Sleep, to humans. His blue gray troop nodded again.

"You're the boss, Zero." Zero flicked his green tinted beam saber off, silently slipping the hilt back into the recharger port behind his right shoulder. His eyes finally calmed down, and his battle mode fell away, leaving him hanging with his normal ranges of reflexes.

"Home again, then." Zero's troops activated their warp generators, allowing themselves to be disassembled molecule by molecule until they floated in the air as energy and semi-solid particles. Then they burst up into the jetstream, heading back to the MHHQ in Tokyo.

Zero took the time to throw the rest of his Rakuhouha pellets back at Killer Koala, completely causing the Maverick to vanish into atomic fire. No sense in having somebody resurrect a menace. Then he raised his wristcomm up to his mouth and spoke into it.

"Commander Zero here. Riyadh is secure, I repeat, all Mavericks have been neutralized. We're coming home." He shut the connection off and activated his own warp generator. 

But he did feel like saying something else.

"One down, four to go." Zero raised his eyes to the sky. "Let's hope that we still have the luck to win."

The Mavericks had only one thing in mind for Pharaoh Man and his two comrades at his back. With their Busters and plasma rifles raised, it was clear to see in their dull sunken eyes.

Death was the only thing that they would be serving today. Pharaoh Man's mind felt new signals, self generated sensations that would have confounded him earlier. Experiencing life living with Cossack, and the recent exposure to X and Hazil had cinched it.

Pharaoh Man was feeling emotions. A fluke, perhaps. Or maybe it was because of his long period of activation. He was well over thirty human years old. Hazil had explained that experiences determined the mood of a reploid. In the same retrospective, perhaps even mere robots, if left turned on for long enough could overcome their initial mental deprivation, adding onto it.

The emotions Pharaoh Man felt were rage, frustration, and utter hopelessness. He had evolved beyond what he was…

Only to be faced with imminent destruction.

Then, a voice broke him out of his trance.

"COVER YOUR EYES!" It came from above, and every Maverick out in the open raised their surprised faces to gaze upwards at the source. Toad Man, Ring Man and Pharaoh Man however, had no intentions of doing the obvious movement. They dropped to the ground and tightly shut their eyes, for they knew what was coming.

In the dim of nightfall over the ravaged Moscow, the sun reappeared in a blinding flash. The enemy Mavericks cried out in pain, sliding their hands over their eyes. The flash faded away, and a new figure finally landed only feet away from the trapped Robot Masters. The new figure flashed a thumbs up and raised its arm cannon, the giant flashbulb atop its head still whining down from the strobe.

"You guys have no appreciation for the element of surprise." Bright Man quickly whipped his Arm Cannon up to bear and blew away the two nearest Mavericks. 

Pharaoh Man's auditory sensors picked up the presence of his comrade, and rightfully assumed he could get up and fight. If there was one thing that could mess up Pharaoh Man, it was an overload to his optic circuitry. That was how Mega Man had defeated him back when he was under Wily's control in the Fourth Robot War.

As he opened his eyes, he was assured of Bright Man's success.

"MOVE OUT!" Pharaoh Man bellowed. Toad Man hopped up from his stationary pose, crushing down upon another Maverick troop, forever silencing the attached Buster.

Ring Man lashed out with a small hop, unleashing two boomerang at once. Two more quickly formed in his hands, and he shot those off as well.

The one tank that had faced them along with the troops was destroyed within moments, the Ring Boomerangs having sheared off the main turret and Toad Man's acid bombs having burned through and shut off the power core. 

Pharaoh Man let out a breath in relief, turning to Bright Man as he saw that their small scuffle had been won.

"You just saved us all there." Bright Man smiled pleasantly and nodded.

"It is my duty to ensure the survival of my teammates and those I have been assigned to protect. Anything less is failure…and failure is not an option." Pharaoh Man shrugged.

"Get back on the rooftops. If we get in another mess like that, we'll need you to pull off that trick again." Bright Man acknowledged the command and promptly took a huge leap back onto the rooftops again.

Pharaoh Man's optics focused back in, past the smoking rubble of the heavily armored tank nearby and towards the main target he was assigned to destroy.

The Hovertransport with the letters URFAWP emblazoned across its side. Pharaoh Man once more saw the figure in the cockpit. 

With a chilling realization, Pharaoh Man noted the figure, his arms folded and his yellowed armor glistening in the final ergs of sunlight, was looking straight back at him.

Cold sparks of electricity passed between their eyes as they recognized each other from afar. Pharaoh Man felt like a hand was creeping down his back, and he shivered without knowing he had done so. Finally, the Maverick inside the transport raised its right hand and pointed straight at him, through the smoky air and the main window shield. And his mouth said one word.

"YOU." Pharaoh Man returned the expression with a curd nod. He pointed his own hand at the figure, all fingers. His own eyes furrowed up in an expression he had seen Hazil use when the reploid was deeply angered. 

In that simple gesture that Pharaoh Man had learned to mimick, he displayed another aspect of emotion.

Cold, battlefield acknowledgement. His foe knew he was there. His foe knew that he meant business. And now his foe knew that nothing would get in his way. 

Pharaoh Man's sensors seemed to predict a conflict upcoming, and he checked his stats.

Only a few minor scrapes off of his meter, and he still had all five E-Tanks. 

As a line of Tanks began to roll towards them from the belly of the Hovertransport, Pharaoh Man knew one crucial thing:

Whoever that Maverick was, he would face him. Leader to leader. 

An artillery shot burrowed into the ground and exploded just meters behind Pharaoh Man, bringing the Robot Master back to his senses. With lightning agility, Pharaoh leapt up into the air, narrowly avoiding the second wave of shots that rained from the turrets. 

Charging energy back into his gauntlets, he felt two small baseball sized masses of plasma begin to form in his palms. He quickly hurled the first down at the first tank in the line, but he held off on the other, continuing to charge it until it took on a more devastating form. He peppered in even more energy from his other gauntlet, then landed neatly beside the line. They were all directly in front of him, a perfect strafe shot.

He unleashed the Pharaoh Shot. Unlike the smaller globe shaped blasts, this one took the form of a Crescent moon, soaring along through the air, crackling and screaming as it went. 

It crashed into the hull of the first, burning through and continuing on with little difficulty. It burst out of the other side of the craft, leaving a gaping wound where it had come from, then slammed into the second.

The second tank too was completely gutted by the shot. 

And the third. And the fourth.

When the fifth and final tank had its insides blown out, including what was left of the Maverick controllers after they had fried in their pod of electronics, Pharaoh Man finally let out a sigh.

"First charged shot is a complete success." Pharaoh Man noted. "The Pharaoh Wave works perfectly under new specifications." 

Pharaoh Man had been so busy with his own battalion of tanks, he had failed to notice a powerful facsimile of the original Bee Blader chopter out of the hovertransport's hangar, making a direct course towards him. The Robot Master turned in surprise to see the twin chainguns of the Mosquitolike hoverdrone lower themselves, pointing directly at him. 

Thankfully, luck was on Pharaoh Man's side, as it had been all day. Just as the drone was a menacing ten feet away, and finally parallel to the ground, the ground beneath Pharaoh Man's feet began to shake.

For good reason. The red and black colored Robot Master Drill Man leapt out of the ground, propelled by the forward motion of his Drilling Action. With his RPM's at max, the Robot Master shredded up through the underbelly of the hoverdrone and out its tail.

Drill Man was hurled headfirst back into the ground as the drone exploded, showering the area with burning fuel and metallic shrapnel from the plasma reflective rotoblades. Slightly miffed, but no worse for wear, the Robot Master calmly plucked himself from his rude landing and stood up, waving a Drill equipped hand at Pharaoh Man.

"My scanners showed an incoming foe which you were not responding to." Pharaoh Man let out his surprised breath.

"That's twice already my team's saved my behind." Drill Man shrugged. 

"Because some of us can take the unexpected route to a target, nothing more. Shall I continue burrowing for a belly assault on the main craft?" Pharaoh Man nodded.

"Yeah. Use your Drill Bombs too. I want that thing ripped to shreds." Drill Man gave a half salute with what he had for an arm, then leapt up into the air, extended his arms, and reactivated his spinning drills. 

Drill Man vanished back into the ground which he used so very well as his advantage. Pharaoh Man continued running towards the main target, noting with consternation that the craft's topside laser cannon was beading down on him. A quick leap to the left saved his bacon from one devastating shot pulse, and a leap up into the air kept him out away from a second follow-up. Pharaoh realized only team tactics would succeed here.

"Bright Man! Drop in and flash their cameras!" a shot harrumph for a reply, and as Pharaoh Man ducked down and covered his eyes, the exploding whine of the strobe flash lit up the night sky once more. 

But Pharaoh Man felt the piercing shot grind through his upper arm, and let out a yowl of dismay. "It didn't work! That sucker's automated!" 

His energy had dropped substantially from that one glancing blow, and even worse, his upper right arm's controls were sluggish. That shot had most likely done some crucial damage to the fine tuned servos, which meant he was less able to deal damage. A crippled warhorse.

Pharaoh Man leapt up from his position, narrowly dodging the chipped concrete that flew up from the blast's contact point. That Hovertransport was smack dab in the middle of Moscow's Red Square, and had a perfect shot at him no matter where he went. Therefore, only one direction meant tactical success.

Towards the tank itself. Because the gun was automated, that meant he could outwit it. Much like Mega Man had done when Pharaoh Man's mental thought capabilities were vastly lower, it was strategy and split second decisions that would save him from the scrapyard. 

The others were coming along as well, although the laser cannon was too busy with him to take notice of the others.

Ring Man was twenty feet to his left, making good time, but he was not as fast as Pharaoh Man's jump and run tactics. Nonetheless, his eyes were set and he was armed with two Ring Boomerangs at the ready. After Bright Man had dropped from his rooftop jumping to spray the area with another flash from his lightbulb, he had quickly waddled back to the cover of the alleyways, weaving his way in and out to make sure there were no 'surprises' awaiting the rest of the team. Toad Man was a little more quirky, leaping from one side of the street to the other with ease, rooftop to rooftop, an acid bomb in his launcher port for a long range ballistic shot when he got in range.

And somewhere underneath the streets, burrowing through the ground and avoiding all sewer lines and electrical cables by use of his ground penetrating radar, was Drill Man, making a direct line towards the hovertransport's undefended belly and the machinery within.

All in all, things were beginning to look up for the counterattack in Moscow. But Pharaoh Man knew within the new core of programming he referred to as his 'humanity' there was a nagging feeling that told him there were still a hundred things that could go wrong. 

Finally, Pharaoh Man's comm crackled to life. He raised his arm to his head and activated the receiver.

"Phare here. Who's calling?"

"CROAK!" Came the loud reply. Pharaoh Man winced.

"Good news?" 

"I'm within ballistics range of that laser turret. Keep it busy for a few more moments, and I can peg it with a direct Shot!" Pharaoh Man's eyes widened as he dropped to the brick road, dodging the hot blast of energy that skimmed over his head.

"MAKE IT FAST, TOAD MAN!" Pharaoh cried out in shock. "He's got me pegged!" A quick roll to his left saved him from another shot…

But the second trailer shot slammed through his right leg, burning a direct hole through the circuitry and hydraulics. Pharaoh Man let out another anguished scream of pain from the shot, finding himself unable to move.

But no finishing shot came. By lady luck's guidance once more, he had been spared. Right after that second shot careened into his leg, Toad Man's accurate Acid Burst Mortar round fell down and cracked apart on the turret's main port, just by the barrel. The corrosive acid burned through the polished metal, severing the turret's firing chamber from the main power plant. 

The laser turret tried to fire another shot. It couldn't know that there was nothing to focus the power it was channeling to the melted barrel's hilt. Much like a severed Buster, there was nothing to control the untamed energies collected.

So the energy escaped, the only way it could. It exploded, turning the entire autocannon into scrap and blowing a hole into the hovertransport.

Pharaoh Man drew in several gulps of air, trying to give his power generator more to work with. Finally resigning to that tactic, he drained an Energy Tank and let his self-repair systems kick in.

The armor damage could not be repaired. But the hydraulics and servos could be fixed somewhat. Pharaoh Man hoped that was enough.

He could hear explosions and see roiling smoke roll out from the open hangar. His comm crackled to life.

"Drill Man here. All remaining heavy armament in the hovertransport's hangar bay has been disposed of." Pharaoh Man wearily hit his own transceiver.

"Roger. Toad Man, nice shot with the cannon. You just saved me from imminent shutdown." 

The hovertransport's loudspeaker came to life, crackling loudly and silencing Pharaoh's voice.

"Whoever you all are, you certainly are well synergized. You've successfully managed to destroy the majority of this little charade. For that, I wish to congratulate you. However, your luck's just run out." Pharaoh Man stood up, leaning more on his left leg than his injured right. He looked at the cockpit, and the voice he knew was speaking towards them.

"Do you mean to say you're going to come out and face us?" Pharaoh Man's gaze quietly scanned the entire craft's body, his dark eyes transferring the emotion of anger. The voice laughed crazily for a moment, and it seemed to tinge on the upper register.

"Are you sure? If you face me, it would mean your death!" Pharaoh Man took the words in stride, knowing that every moment this crazed fool kept talking meant another one of his comrades who could make it to the combat area.

"If I may impart some wisdom on you my Maverick friend, Talk's cheap. If you want to prove that you're so tough, you step out of that protective shell and face me robot to robot." The Maverick cackled.

"You mean to tell me you aren't even a full reploid?" Pharaoh Man kept his doubts in check and stood his ground.

"I'm close enough." Pharaoh growled, giving an expression of stern confidence. The Maverick chuckled over his connection.

"You give me little to no challenge here, you fool. I'm a full fledged Maverick General, completely in control of every aspect of my abilities. I don't hesitate like the drones you defeated."

"Very well." Pharaoh Man replied curtly. "Just what is your name, anyhow?"

"Names mean so little in my line of work, robot. But if it means that much to you…" The Maverick cackled. "I am known as Megavolt Meerkat." 

The hovertransport's cockpit opened up, the top sliding open with a smooth hydraulic motion. 

The Red Square took on a surreal shade of lighting at that moment. The dipping sun, shades of purple and pink and orange reflected off the green and red colorations of the spiraling rooftops and the brickwork of the roads and the destroyed buildings. 

In this surreal scene, a figure leapt out of the hovertransport, landing lightly on the brick pavement. The yellow and black colored figure whipped its tail angrily about its feet, sparks of power crackling off of its hands. Through a mask of jagged yellow, the Maverick glared.

"Are you ready for the void, robot?" Pharaoh Man began to charge his gauntlets for the attack, lowering himself into a defensive stance.

In the corner of his eye, he saw his four comrades were closely watching the two of them, vultures above the desert. He reasserted his gaze back to Megavolt Meerkat.

"Let it begin."

The sun was now almost entirely gone from the sky as Cairo's glow took its place. The whirling wind blew sand into the air, partially blocking the view.

In this almost peaceful scene, a trio of Landchasers blasted down Cairo River, skimming across the water on repulsors. Their engines whined as they were held at maximum force. The three individuals riding them wanted to go that fast, though.

The survival of this region depended upon it. Allegro was in the lead of the mad dash, while Andante and the surly Doan followed behind, trying uselessly to catch up. Doan checked his forward looking scanners.

"TWO MILES TO GO!" Doan hollered over his commlink, hoping that in the wind pushing past them, Andante could distinguish his transmission. Allegro wasn't listening at all. Andante looked over from his own position on the Nile and waved in response.

Doan silently ran the countdown as their screaming vehicles pushed closer and closer. He could very well die on this mission, a fact of life when you were a Hunter. But Doan was strong, strong enough because he hated Sigma, and hated what Sigma stood for with a passion. In all of his depression created by Sigma's continuing Uprisings, there was that one sparkle that kept him going.

That some day, Sigma would finally pass away. 

The eyes of Allegro were filled with a different rage. It wasn't nearly as subdued as Doan's, more primal in nature. Allegro had been played for a fool, pushed into tracking the wrong foe. Because of his own misassumptions and the dialogue of the Maverick Fluid Ferret, Allegro's mind track had been pushed into believing that J.K. Horn, the founder of URFAWP, the very organization Allegro joined because of his wish for a better tomorrow, was the one behind it all.

Allegro let out a small harrumph of anger in his voice, notching up his engine a step more. Now that his attacks were pointed at the true foes, the Mavericks and not the scapegoat Horn, Allegro felt a resurgence of power flow within his veins that he had not felt in a long time. Such a crackling force had been felt only once before, when he and his twin brother Andante had stepped off of the hovertransport and into North Africa's URFAWP training facility. His purpose back then had been clear. As clear as it was now.

Only the mission had changed. Instead of talking for peace, he was enforcing it.

The Hunters had gotten in his way in some of the bigger attacks sent out by Fluid Ferret's deviousness, like the one in where the green Hunter Wycost had shown up, infected and without control. Or the past occurrence where the one known as Bastion, and the more famous Zero had prevented them from destroying Horn. That was the only occurrence Allegro could now feel guilty about starting.

And then as he blinked, shifting his mind from its philosophical track to the more pressing mission in Cairo, he saw that he was quickly entering it. He veered off of the river and onto the dry land nearby, scanning the area for something that could give him an aerial advantage.

An unusually tall nearby sand dune would suffice, Allegro finally decided. Kicking his Landchaser into motion, he aimed himself directly at it and gave the Repulsors more power. His bike lifted up off the ground a tad more, slowing him down, but giving him the edge for a larger jump.

And then in less time than it took an average human to blink, the nimble and hotheaded Allegro was airborne. The wind blew fiercer into his eyes, but narrowing them allowed him to still maintain some sort of a view. He activated the super thrust on his cycle, lifting the front end even higher up into the air as the rear thruster pushed the bike even higher up into the air.

And then he looked down, high above Cairo and began to scan every corner of it that he could see.

There was the Main Hovertransport not far off. Emanating from it was a series of explosions. Allegro frowned as he knew that those explosions were being created by Maverick ground troops and some kind of armored craft. Possibly Chimera Riding Armor Mechs. 

On the river Nile below, Doan looked up at the rash move of Allegro and let his frown deepen.

"What is that fool doing now?" Andante activated his comm to speak to Doan, as if he could hear the question over the airflow that blew past them like a screaming banshee.

"Allegro's going airborne so he can identify all the threats in the area. Then he'll try to position himself so he can land safely, gun his engines and get to work blasting through all opposition." Doan widened his eyes in surprise and keyed his own transmitter to life.

"Can he do that?" Andante scoffed, a bit miffed that Doan could even possibly doubt his significant other's abilities.

"Of course! When he was being trained in URFAWP, he was ranked the best in motor vehicle driving on the entire base! Anything from Landchasers to the big and surly airborne fortresses…he'll drive it. Using weaponry however is something he picked up AFTER we escaped." Doan grunted, stunned at the news.

"You guys have a lot to hide, don't you?" Andante shrugged and keyed in a final transmission on his comm.

"Everyone has their secrets, Hunter. That's why we keep them. Allegro will surprise the Mavericks and give us a chance to get in there unnoticed. From there, it's a matter of finding him and eliminating the main hovertransport…Those things have huge hangars."

"How huge?" Doan's frightened whisper came. Andante sighed.

"Big enough to hold an army." Doan didn't respond.

There was nothing to be said. So he let the waves of the Nile, blown aside by their approach silently soothe his nerves.

But his mind was still readying itself for battle. 

Allegro, his arc finally taking the downwards plunge of gravity's influence, readied himself, setting his boots firmly on the footpoles as his thumbs rested confortably next to his triggers. He quickly confirmed that he would land where he wanted to, and then he nodded his head. A slow groan pulled itself from the depths of its throat, growing louder and louder as it quickly transformed into a baleful wail, the howl of a wounded animal that would unleash its rage upon whoever attacked it. 

And then landfall. In the streets of Cairo, Egypt, Allegro's Landchaser Hovercycle finally became grounded once more, bouncing off a roof with a blast of air before finally crunching down into the dirt back alleyway. His landing crushed a Maverick sentry, quietly scanning the area for any attack.

Bursting out of his dark street corner in a flash of thrusters, Allegro widened his eyes and quickly found two more troops turning to face him in surprise. Three pulls of his Landchaser's trigger and superpowered plasma bursts shot out from the nose, downing them before they could even grunt out a cry of alarm.

His speed was incredible, racing through the secondary street with ease. His sky look he still remembered vividly, and just around the corner was two heavily armored hovertanks. It'd take a wheel charge to wipe them out.

He lifted the front end of his bike, using his repulsors to push himself off of the ground in a jump. Turning his Landchaser sideways, he used the building right in front of him as a focal point, the repulsors pushing away from it and allowing Allegro to turn his cycle in a razor sharp corner. 

The tanks never saw him coming. Their turrets were pointed the other way as he thrusted forth, landing solidly back on the road and pushing his thumb trigger several times, sending out a presalvo of shots. 

Then he turned his front wheel up in the air and gunned the engine. The front hardpoint underneath the nose of the Landchaser lit up angrily with a plasma fire similar to a beam saber.

Pushed forth by his thrusters, Allegro followed his shots as they crashed into the first tank. He plowed straight through it, bursting out of the other side and into the second.

The explosions managed to blow him forth even farther away, giving him extra force as he crashed into the second.

He screamed away from the dual explosions with as much power as he could, pushed by the heat from the wreckage behind him.

And then he decided it was time to make tracks towards the main hovertransport. It wasn't that far away.

"Those Mavericks will pay…" Allegro growled. If his sight was correct, he wasn't far. Just another corner…

And Allegro found himself charging towards a tank line, firing angrily with explosive shells. With widened eyes, he jumped the first wave, pointing his nose down and returning fire. The first tank burst into flames, and Allegro took the opening, skimming through the opening created to avoid the other two. 

Time was of the essence. He needed to make his way to the main tank and take it out!

Skimming down the Nile River through Cairo itself, Doan and Andante identified the loud explosions and flashes that accompanied his rampage. 

Andante shook his head angrily.

"That fool. He's going to get himself killed if he keeps this up!" Doan clacked his teeth together, not doubting that for a moment. 

"We'd better catch up to him." Andante shook his head resignedly.

"No way we'll catch up to him now. But I know where he's headed, and if we can make it there before him, we might be able to save his bacon." Doan blinked.

"The main hovertransport, you mean?" Andante nodded. Doan thrust a hand forth, reaching out.

"I saw it coming in. We hop off of this river and make a diagonal right through everything in our path, we can beat him to it."

"Buildings and all?" Andante noted incredulously. Doan nodded.

"Yep. See how we're lined in a channel with a slope?" Andante blinked in disbelief. 

"You're not serious…" Doan flashed a smirk.

"Very. This is the only way to make it there before he does. He'll more than likely be barreling through every single enemy he can on the way, so let's use this to the best of our advantage." 

Doan pushed his Landchaser into high gear, accelerating it up and to the right. Up the sloped surface of the channel he flew, and finally he hit the main jump switch. 

Propelled like a rocket, Doan's Landchaser Cycle went up into the air, solidly skimming off the corner of a building and landing solidly on its flat surface. He made a quick secondary jump to make it to the next building, then looked behind him. Oddly, Andante wasn't there. Doan blinked in confusion for a few moments, then heard his comm crackle to life.

"Look in front of you, Hunter." Came Andante's smooth and collected voice. Doan's head swiveled in amazement to see that somehow Andante had passed him. The rogue reploid shrugged and talked into his commlink. "Hey, my jump was bigger than yours." Doan shook his head.

Andante was right when he had said they harbored many secrets. 

Their rooftop parade was pretty quiet, and to their surprise they saw no opposition on their way in. The reason for this however, became clear as they approached the Hovertransport, placed solidly in a wide open landing strip in downtown Cairo, in a bonified beautification project, water fountains and all.

Doan's optics quickly homed in on the enemy forces. The tanks which had been called back had surrounded the rear of the Hovertransport in a protective line, and Maverick ground troops, clutching everything from deadly Busters to second rate projectile rifles looked on with dead eyes, cowered behind the limited protection the tanks offered. They meant to protect the hangar of the craft, opened and spewing forth even more foes, as if it possessed an unlimited amount of them.

Doan realized that in this situation, his mobility was the key. Time to ditch the Landchaser and whip out his beam lance. 

"Stay up here!" Doan chirped to Andante as they drove to a halt on the last roof away from the main Maverick cluster. Andante blinked for a few moments, but didn't question Doan's wisdom, keeping his motor on but not activating his main thrusters. 

Doan revved up his motor a few times, then released the gas. A blast of hot fumes and fire burst from the rear exhaust on the Landchaser cycle, and Doan hurtled himself off of the roof and towards the Tank's main line.

He leapt off of his cycle in midair, making sure it was aimed at the farthest tank. Then with lightning agility, he contorted his body, falling like a spinning axle on a destabilized gyro. As his right hand shifted seamlessly into a Buster, he activated his Buster's special weapon, the Plasma Wave. It made his arm turn an emblazoned red and silvery chrome color, but did not alter the rest of his gray armor. His left hand reached up and grabbed hold of the unusually larger shaft to his main beam weapon, a tool not used by many that was known as the Beam Lance. 

Within less than a second of his initial leap off of the Landchaser Cycle, it had crashed perfectly into the farthest tank, causing both armored transports to explode in fiery rage and annihilating the Mavericks behind it.

The Mavericks filled the air with hot plasma fire, but Doan skillfully weaved his way through the storm, landing safely on the ground beside the closest tank. The lines were tightly packed, and Doan lit his beam lance. He drew it back for a moment, calmly pushing in a switch opposite the main power knob, then swinging his lance in a powerful horizontal arc with a war scream.

The hot plasma blade flashed angrily as its secondary function activated, in a powerful move Doan referred to as the Saber Flare. Within microseconds of the command Doan had given by pushing his second switch, the blade's containment field arced out to an incredible range of 21'6 feet, vastly larger than the usual 4'5 it was capable of.

The hot plasma roiled out to the extent of the new field's perimeter, and as Doan's powerful slash carried it sidewards, it burned through the armored hulls of every tank on the line. The rippling explosions threatened to throw the Hunter from his feet, but by grit determination Doan held on and finished through with his arc, following with a quick secondary diagonal slash to ensure the tank's destructions. 

Doan didn't see the main hovertransport's cannon lower itself, or hear the whine of its rotating stabilization core collect the ergs of power needed to focus a beam of light into the powerful force known as a laser, tinted a comical pink. Doan did not sense anything that would alert him a foe was homing in on him.

But when the shot fired at last, it clearly made an impression on him as first surprise, then incredible pain registered on his face. The beam blew clean through his lower left side, then continued on to burn into the desert roads of Cairo. Doan let out another cry, feeling his system weaken as his Internal Operations Energy decreased to cease the wound's malfunctioning, and to seal the blood vessels that had already been cauterized by the intense heat.

The cannon seemed to pause for a moment, an aftereffect of the laser cannon being a necessary period of recharge. That gave Doan enough time to slump to the ground onto one knee, his beam lance falling helplessly to the ground, shrinking back to its normal size as both his hands clutched over his wound.

Doan's head shifted its gaze upwards, and he spotted the source of his wound on top of the Hovertransport.

"A Laser cannon…" Doan winced painfully. "I can't believe I missed that…" Indeed, if the shot had blown clean through his Fusion Generator, or even more severely his entire head, destroying his Control Chip in a single blast. 

But a new noise filled his ears, and Doan knew what it was. Another Landchaser was fast approaching, and it wasn't Andante.

They'd beaten Allegro to the Hovertransport, but now the rash fool would have to face the fury of that powerful laser cannon. 

"Allegro!" Doan tried to yell out before his voice silenced itself in a fit of coughing. Allegro's approach didn't slow in the least, and in fact as he came on, he fired several blasts from his Landchaser's nose cannon. 

"THE MAVERICK REGIME DIES TONIGHT!" Allegro screamed at the top of his lungs. Each shot slammed fiercely into the hull of the Hovertransport, burning through at crucial wiring and causing mass havoc. 

But the laser cannon's systems were unaffected, and in a final retaliation against the emboldened and rash reploid who approached it, leveled the turret and began to whine as it charged up. Doan's eyes widened in surprise as Andante's statement filled his mind:

"Some day that hot head of his is going to get him killed." Doan's heart fell an incredible distance, because he knew there was nothing he could do to stop Allegro, nothing to stop the destruction of that cannon. 

But then a second scream filled the air, from above Doan. This time, his head responded, turning full force to spy the source.

Andante. He had revved up his engine and charged off the roof…But why? He couldn't stop the cannon from firing now.

Doan's blood almost stopped beating as with sudden realization, his racing mind came across the terrifying horror of Andante's mission.

He wasn't trying to stop the cannon from firing. 

He was going to save his brother. And that meant…

"ANDANTE! NOOO! DON'T DO IT!" Doan screamed, his eyes nearly bulging out from his head. Weakened nonetheless, Doan struggled to his feet and activated his Buster again, bringing up his Plasma Wave Fire Cannon.

But it was too late. Andante's face was filled with woe, sorrow, but also a grim determination. He keyed his mike to life so that Allegro could hear him.

"Promise me brother…Promise me you'll keep the world safe." Allegro's scream cut short in surprise as he keyed in his own transmission.

"Whaddya talkin about, Andante? ANDANTE?!" Allegro suddenly spied his brother's approach through the air, soaring directly in between him and the Hovertransport. The reason seemed so unclear to Allegro.

But it all came into focus as the corner of his eye spotted the powerful burning beam of a laser pulse fire from the Hovertransport's upper deck, headed straight towards him.

Towards his brother, who had put himself between the shot and Allegro.

"NO! ANDANTE!" Allegro screamed, his hands clenching down on the handlegrips, racing ahead, trying in a final act of futility to get his brother out of the way before…

The laser blast pierced through the first layer of armor plating of Andante's Landchaser. It did not however continue on, as the bike's interior of fuel and wiring absorbed the entire blast. In the roiling chaos that erupted, the Landchaser blew itself apart, ceasing to be as a functional device.

The shrapnel created by that blast claimed Andante, slicing upwards in a vicious storm that thankfully didn't leave him alive. As the bursts pierced his Fusion Generator, the reaction went unstable, then critical all within the timespan of a few microseconds.

A second explosion, Andante, followed the Landchaser less than a second afterwards.

Doan leapt up in a rage borne out of helplessness, spraying the final line of defense, the laser turret with a continuous stream of his Buster's roiling wave. 

The metal peeled back like it was water being pushed by the wind, just before it finally gave in and shorted out as a pile of slag.

And then the giant behemoth of metal was silent. A darkness overcame the arena, a silence that didn't seem to end.

It was haunting. And at the same time, maddening. There had been three of them when this mission to save Cairo began.

Even though they had won… 

It had come at a cost. Doan had gotten a severe wound, and the reploid called Andante was no more. Only Allegro, the fiery reploid who shot first and asked questions later was left standing in pristine condition.

And even he wasn't standing. In a stupor of stunned disbelief and silent rage, Allegro had tried to get off of his bike, and succeeded only in sliding to the street in a weakened posture, laying on his knees. His hands hung limply from his shoulders, and his eyes gazed in a zombified stare at where Andante had been.

Then it set in. Something inside of Allegro cracked at that moment. His rash approach…

His rash tactics. They were the reason that his brother was no longer here. His brother had sacrificed his own life to save Allegro from a blunder that Andante had warned time and time again would get him killed.

Only it wasn't Allegro that was vaporized now, smashed to atoms.

It was the innocent who stood in the path of the bullet. It was Andante who was dead. A low noise came from his throat, a direct opposite to the scream of rage he had thrown out only moments before. His chest shook involuntarily, and even Doan could hear what Allegro was doing.

Allegro was weeping. His hands balled up into fists, falling weakly against the ground in an act of defiance.

"Blast you, Andante…" Allegro choked out, his eyes becoming blurry with fluid. "Why did you go and do that? Why didn't you just let me die like the fool I was?" 

He began to rock slowly, beyond his ability to notice, his fists gaining more strength as they pounded in the dirt. His slow moans grew louder, into shouts of rage.

"I SHOULD HAVE DIED! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!" Allegro screamed out, beating his chest and leaving dents in the armor plate. "DAMN YOU, ANDANTE!"

He flung his arms outward, a final act of defiance against the act he had been witness and cause to. "TAKE ME WITH YOU!" 

But Allegro received no answer. Only the slow wailing wind blew past him, as if Andante was comforting his brother one final time before departing for the unknown beyond earth. And at long last, the final vestiges of Allegro's defiant spirit vanished, pulled out by the wind that blew past his face. Allegro's weary hands and their trembling fingers reached up, unsteadily removing the helmet he had worn for ages.

His silvery black hair waved in the wind, removing the heat from his head with relative ease. But it was Allegro's misty eyes that caught Doan's attention. Their gaze looked up at the starry sky above, searching for some remnant of his brother.

A shooting star blew through the atmosphere, a fiery streak that vanished in a blink of light. Allegro lowered his head, finally defeated.

He had won his battle against the Mavericks. But at the cost of his brother, it was too much for him to bear. There was no more angry screams heard in Cairo that night.

Only the fevered sobbing of a reploid, in a city that had seen enough death and destruction for years to come.

And as Doan watched with eyes that knew the loss of that event, but also had some dim dullness that came with seeing death all your life, he knew only one thing.

Cairo was secure.

But there were still four other places on earth that could be destroyed. 

And this one as well, if Wycost was unable to stop Nitro Narwhal's explosive comeback.

Nitro Narwhal plodded back and forth above the explosive charges he had carefully placed on the Aswan Dam's lower wall. His oddly distorted face, contoured to stretch around the rather large and bulbous head of his did little justice to the beautification police. His boots, designed on purpose to look like general 1600's leather apparel worn by the British Navy's lowest ranks tromped across the cement. More than once the portly Maverick came close to tripping over the edge and plummeting down 300 feet. Of course, if he did fall off he could always grab a hold of the Dam's outer wall and scamper back up with ease. 

He checked to ensure that all the charges in place were set, then with a grunt and a grin he pulled the timed detonator out and pressed it. 

All the timers in the 'stick and forget' moldable plastic explosive activated upon Narwhal's command, silently bringing their timers to five minutes, and then ticking down. Nitro nodded his head and prepared to make haste to the south to avoid the powerful surge of water he would be responsible for. But first he needed to make a call.

"This is Nitro Narwhal, laddies! I've placed the charges and set it to blow in five minutes! Get your scurvy selves out of Cairo and in the air, or you're all going to be washed out to sea!" He stopped talking, waiting for the return transmission.

Five seconds. Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. No response. Narhwal glared into his comm.

"Is anyone there still listening in? I SAID MOVE OR YOU'RE FISHBAIT!" Narwhal shut his comm off, cursing angrily. "Why aren't those sticks in the mud listening?" 

Then a glint of something caught his eye. A shiny dot of reflected light and hot exhaust, coming from the North towards him. Narwhal set his huge eyes and scanned in. 

He widened them in surprise.

"HIM AGAIN…?!" Narwhal muttered in disbelief. He checked his surprise and reasserted a glare of superiority. "Well, if he thinks he's coming here to stop me, he's wrong. Dead wrong." 

Narwhal set his legs firmly into a stance, then extended his right hand. An improvement on the weapons design he had held before, he now held Homing explosive blasts in his wrist gauntlets. Not too many, but enough. And if he ran out of those, he still had his mainstay horn cannon. He fired a Homing explosive, watching the streamlined burst of black soar downwards, tracking the heat plume on the Landchaser cycle approaching.

Wycost just happened to look up at that moment, because scanning in infared, he quickly caught the plume of fire from above, chasing down after him. He didn't lift his goggles, and he didn't need to. Now in their second stage of development, with abilities beyond anything the Mavericks were expecting, he was able to wear his glasses all the time and not be pushed out of whack.

"Ahhh, frackkit!" Wycost muttered as he realized what the heat plume coming down after him was. He quickly leapt off his bike, his right hand shifting into his Buster and beginning to charge up a plasma supershot.

A second later, his bike exploded in the fire of fuel and high explosive, and the Hunter thought that the shrapnel created might take him.

But his fears were unfounded. Wycost was left untouched, and he landed on the ground, looking up with his Buster raised. His eyes narrowed, for he knew of only one Maverick in this area. He clipped his Interdictor into action, sending a transmission through the scrambled frequency used by Narwhal for his operations.

"Nitro Narwhal, I presume?" The Maverick chuckled for a bit, not letting his hard eyes leave the green Hunter below.

"And you be the great Hunter Wycost, once infected by me, and once by my cohort Fluid Ferret. I see that you've managed to snap out of its grasp, my friend. But have no worries. I'll see you to the grave yet."

Four minutes to detonation. Wycost didn't wait for another retort, and didn't form one on his end of the commlink. He simply charged at the Dam, hoping to make his way up the side of it.

But Nitro Narwhal was persistent. He leapt off from his high perch, plummeting down at an incredible speed before slamming into the riverbank below. For all the water held back, the Nile was still an overpowering river.

Wycost stopped his mad dash, making sure not to get anywhere near the overpowering behemoth. Indeed, the mad Maverick took a swing at him, and had the blow hit, it would have sent Wycost sprawling. Wycost released his supershot, aiming straight for the sharp outcropping on Narwhal's head. 

Narwhal brought his other arm, easily deflecting the shot and chortling.

"Oh, I know what destroyed me last time, me hearty. I know as well as you do the only part of me body not covered in the wonderful metal known as TitaniTefloalloy is that horn you were shooting for." Narhwal charged at Wycost with a furious bellow in his voice.

"I've changed too, Maverick." Wycost said edgily, switching his Buster to its secondary function of the Strobe Flash. "A change that you're very much responsible for." 

Wycost jumped up into the air, using his Air Dash to push him up even farther. He needed to clear some air between him and Narwhal.

The Maverick skidded to a halt on the ground below where Wycost had been only moments before. He smirked and let out a long laugh.

"Ye can't run from me, you sea dog!" Narwhal primed his head, lined up the shot and fired. 

The single course explosive arced up, having only one direction to fly. Wycost saw it coming, cursing at himself for forgetting about that window of opportunity Narwhal would take. He changed the footing of one of his boots, using extra thrust from it to shove him slightly off kilter, out of the flight path the high explosive shard was taking for him.

The shot narrowly avoided collision, and continued up into the air before exploding automatically. 

But Nitro Narwhal was thorough. With an upraised arm, he gave a small chuckle to himself and fired off one of his new homing shots.

This one Wycost couldn't avoid in the least, and as he moved his hands to protect his goggles, the explosion enveloped him.

The loud thunderclap of high explosive combined with the flash of inescapable, but yet not completely overpowering light.

Narwhal kept his other arm primed with a followup shot, calmly awaiting Wycost to emerge from the hellstorm unscathed.

But as the charred armor covered body of Wycost fell back to earth with a dull thud, Narwhal blinked in surprise. He had expected a little more resistance than this.

It was three minutes to explosion.

Narwhal cackled insanely at his victory, nonetheless acknowledging that it might be a trick.

"It seems you've lost, Wycost. The Hunters have made you weak in your time…" Nitro shook his head, then turned it down and targeted the motionless body of his opponent with his main horn cannon. He fired it off, preparing to watch the body of the green Hunter vanish into the fiery nuclear explosion of a critical fusion generator.

But Wycost still had a few more tricks left to him. As the missile approached, Wycost lifted his head, and even though parts of his armor had been shredded by the shrapnel, he gritted his teeth and pushed past it. 

He activated his dash thrusters, pushing himself to his feet and charging at Narwhal with as much power as he could muster. 

Narwhal widened his eyes in surprise at the sudden reawakening of Wycost, raising his right arm to fire off another homing round.

He never got the chance to. Wycost artfully dodged under the original "Dumb" explosive shot, increasing the thrust in his dash boots. His speed jumped another 20 miles an hour, and he finally was within effective striking range of the Maverick. 

Narwhal saw it coming, and raised his left arm up to block the plasma shot to his weak point. Wycost gave the Maverick a grin that left him unsettled, then spoke up in a voice that screamed pain.

"Say Cheese…" Wycost pulled the trigger on his Buster and released the shot.

But instead of a concentrated burst of plasma that flew along in a spherical ball with a flaming tail, the energy collected and began to disassemble. No heat, no overload.

Just a Million Candle Units of light, bursting into the night air at a distance of four feet from Narwhal's head…and his large, sensitive optics.

It only took microseconds for the damage to be done. Nitro Narwhal's photosensors overloaded because of the flash, not even having a chance to stop the damage. The exposure was so great, it destroyed every transistor in his optics before darkness overtook him.

And then the sensation of incredible pain filled Nitro Narwhal's mind. Pain caused by the feedback loop of the blinded, yet still active optics. His body discovered the problem a moment later and automatically disconnected his optic's power source.

Narwhal screamed out in rage, both hands reaching up and tearing at his eyes, fruitlessly trying to cease the damage caused by that one brilliant burst of light. Wycost stepped back, switching back to his X-Buster's main function and charging up a shot.

Two minutes and thirty seconds to detonation. Wycost looked down on his foe with a stern stony glare that had come with experience.

"You are far wrong, Nitro Narwhal. The Hunters have made me STRONG." Wycost leveled his Buster at Nitro Narwhal's forehead. "That was the Strobe Flash. I picked it up from a Maverick in the Fifth Uprising known as Strobe Stallion." Nitro Narwhal picked up on Wycost's voice and unsteadily extended an arm, aiming a homing blast in his general direction.

"I'll see you die yet, Wycost! NO ONE turns from our cause and lives!" Narwhal fired off the homing missile.

Wycost returned fire with his own plasma burst, destroying the shot before it had even cleared two feet from Narwhal's arm. The high explosive blew apart, flinging hot shards of metal back at Nitro Narwhal and slamming through the TitaniTefloalloy of his arm, stomach and face.

The gravely wounded Nitro Narwhal could barely maintain his footing as his labored breathing blew out exhaust from his systems. 

"Wycost…I may have underestimated you…" Narwhal doubled over as if in pain. Wycost sighed and shook his head.

"Narwhal, it's a conscious decision you have to make. If you want to live, just eliminate the Virus like I did. Trust me on this. Life is always better than death." Wycost flipped his goggles up, his sad eyes peering at Narwhal for any sign of remorse. "If I can do it, anyone can." 

Narwhal breathed in deeply, nodding his head.

"Perhaps…perhaps you are right, Wycost. But if I did this…would you help me?" Wycost's lower lip trembled. He still had a lot of baggage that could be blamed on this Maverick. But he was tired of dealing death.

"Yes." Narwhal's labored breathing began to gain a rythmn, and Wycost realized the Maverick was laughing. Narwhal shook his head.

"Sorry I can't take you up on the offer." Wycost's eyes widened in realization of what Nitro Narwhal had been doing.

Stalling for time, and homing in on Wycost with his auditory sensors for an accurate shot.

Nitro Narwhal fired.

He heard an explosion close by, almost instantaneous from his shot. The Maverick laughed maniacally.

"Success is mine today!" The Maverick stood up, stretching his battered frame up. He was still at critical health, but he had won. "Don't you get it Wycost? THE HUNTERS HAVE MADE YOU WEAK!" 

Cloaked in darkness, a figure appeared behind him. His goggles were raised, and so was his Buster.

A silent fire of anger and disgust was in his eyes and his throat. 

"I've said it before, Narwhal." The Maverick turned in stunned disbelief, and Wycost released his shot.

The hot plasma struck the weak point on top of Nitro Narwhal's head, exploding the metallic shard and sending his systems into critical. The Maverick screamed out in pain before vanishing in white hot fire, a smoking arm crumpling to the ground beside Wycost's left boot.

"The Hunters have made me strong. It is the VIRUS that weakened me." Wycost sighed, shaking his head. "I wasn't lying, Narwhal. Salvation was within your reach." He reached down with his Buster hand, activating his variable weapons grid and selecting an open spot.

The Narwhal Striker was now in Wycost's possession. It had the homing capabilities of his arm missile, and would be much more useful than X's Narwhal Cannon.

1 Minute and ten seconds to detonation. 

Wycost's eyes flared into life, as he suddenly realized the big threat still staring down at him.

"THE DAM!" He kicked his boots into gear, charging for the dam's surface. Activating his goggles' infared function, Wycost scanned the outer concrete surface, picking up the heat plumes created by their timers. They were slight, but they were enough.

There were ten bombs. And Wycost knew time wasn't on his side. He knew he didn't have much…But he hadn't kept an accurate measurement.

Reaching the lower part of the wall, he kicked his body up its surface, pushing himself to his limits, straining past the wounds Narwhal had inflicted on him as he raced the clock.

Reaching the first explosive, he ripped it off of the surface, noting that it was a more common attached version, and not direct plastique. That made it more difficult. With plastique, you simply removed the detonating primacord or ribbon cord from it and the gray puttylike substance wouldn't be a threat.

With what Narwhal was using, he would have to lug the entire assemblies along with him. Or toss them out. But the wind was blowing south tonight…

They'd end up settling down at the base of the Dam. No, he had to carry them all.

"Two…" Wycost panted, taking the adhesive side of the second bomb package and slamming it so it was connected to the second.

It took a few more seconds to reach his third bomb.

Forty seconds to go.

For Wycost, the clock seemed to be an unstoppable demon, a demon that mirrored himself. It taunted him, cackling softly.

**Oh, come now Wycost. What's another black mark on your report card of life? Another failure, another few thousand dead…They'll all die sometime. Why not save them the individual suffering and just let the explosions happen?**

"NO!" Wycost yelled, fighting back against his inner demons. Four and five and six were in his hands within another ten seconds.

Seven through ten were placed ten feet below the top of the dam, from one end of the dam to the other. Wycost gritted his teeth and made his way up to the leftmost one, grabbing hold of it and ripping it off. 

"THIS ENDS NOW!" Wycost screamed out. In a final desperate act, he removed the safeties on his dash thrusters. He activated the stream, and didn't let go. He was going to use it all.

He had to. A continuous thrust, using all his fuel was the only way he could attain the final four bombs in maximum time.

Twenty seconds until detonation.

Wycost blazed through the air, and if it hadn't been for his goggles in place, he would have missed snagging number eight. The wind pushed past his face, and it could have blinded him.

Fifteen seconds.

Wycost grabbed number nine. His fuel was running low now, only a few more seconds of thrust left in them at this rate…

"Hold on baby…" Wycost pleaded with his steel toed sneakers. He could feel his thrust dying out on him, see the final bomb only yards…feets…INCHES…

"GOT IT!" Wycost cried out, managing to knock the final bomb loose with his fingertips. His free hand fumbled for the final explosive device as they both began to plummet downwards.

Seven seconds.

Wycost slammed the final bomb onto his makeshift supermine in his left hand. He shifted his right hand into his Buster again, activating the new weapon, the Nitro Striker.

An opaque black pointed obelisk popped halfway out of the Buster's firing chamber, created by the matter synthesizers within. The Hunter jammed the half spear into his jumbled mess of explosives and then pointed it up into the air, away from the Aswan Dam. 

He prepped himself and fired, putting as much fuel into the round's back chamber as he could.

The kickback from the launch slammed his backside into the concrete wall of the Dam, blinding his eyes in pain as he finally lost control. He spiraled downwards in a tumbled he couldn't recover from, blind to everything but the incredible pain and stress within his mind.

Detonation.

The explosion was loud enough to be heard in Cairo, miles away. But Wycost didn't hear it, for at the exact moment it blew, he slammed into the ground at sixty feet per second.

He lay there for what seemed like an eternity, his aching body sending the warning messages to his brain.

His armor was thrashed. His Buster had been put through Hell activating a new weapon and using it so fast, and his boot thrusters had shot themselves to hell in the stunt he'd pulled.

But as his eyes fluttered open and the ragged Wycost flexed his left hand, he looked over at his Buster arm, in his pain filled euphoria examining the black jagged line that had scoured itself down his arm after he recovered in the Fifth Uprising.

After his second infection, it had blossomed into a multistar pattern of jagged lines, like lines on a globe separating the hemispheres.

Now the lines faded away at long last, not leaving the slightest hint of any infection.

Wycost was finally…

Finally…

CLEAN. 

He drained a Sub-Tank, wondering what could have caused the dramatic loss of his black line. He finally decided that whatever dead remnants of data that had been inside his mind after the Internal Deletions had at last petered out and succumbed to the land of lost memory.

"Good riddance…" Wycost sighed. But he was far from perfect. He brought up his Comm System, finding it a miracle anything of his still worked in perfect order. He activated his transceiver and encoded a message to his people in Cairo.

"This is Wycost. Can any of you hear me?" Static, then a reply.

"Doan here. We're alive, Wycost. Did you stop the Dam's sabotage?" Wycost looked up at the sky above, still seeing the powerful plumes of smoke and charred metal raining down from their airburst. 

"That's an affirmative. Any Mavericks left in Cairo?" Doan grunted.

"No…But we took losses." Wycost's eyes widened. 

"Who?" He asked in a whisper. Doan was silent for a moment, and then spoke up.

"It was Andante." Wycost shook his head, letting it sink in.

Another death.

Another life wasted, trying to stop an evil that wouldn't go away.

Another dead body on his watch.

"Collect yourself and Allegro and warp back to base, Doan." Wycost finally said in a tired voice. "I'll follow soon." Doan didn't question Wycost's motives.

He knew the green Hunter had a lot to deal with.

"I'll see you when you get back then." Wycost let out a contained breath, ending the connection.

He looked up at the clear starry sky above, wondering how in this madness any semblance of sanity could still be maintained. And then he realized something.

It was compassion that allowed for it. Compassion led to friendship, understanding, peace and even love.

That's what they were fighting for more than anything. A chance for compassion.

He brought up his comm system and tagged in a transmission link to the MHHQ in Tokyo.

"This is Wycost here. My team and I have eliminated the threat in Cairo…We're coming back. Inform Cain that he needs to add Andante to his list of casualties as well. Wycost out." He clipped the connection off before whoever received his transmission told him to stuff off.

He wasn't a popular guy at the HQ, no sir. People wanted to see him dead for the simple fact he'd been infected, and they hadn't. 

The old Wycost would have beat the tar out of them and demanded respect. 

He was different now. And the first thing he didn't want to do was start anything that might lead to more loss of life.

Destroying Nitro Narwhal had been horrific enough.

"Isaiah…" Wycost muttered softly, letting his voice trail off as a tear crept into his eye,

"Isaiah…Forgive me." Wycost activated his warp generator and succumbed to the sky, blasting away from the Mideastern region in a burst of fire and matter.

The sky above took on a different sheen as he left. And for a brief moment, one star all alone from any constellation seemed to glimmer down even brighter.

Perhaps Isaiah was saying hello.

"What's the matter, robot?!" Megavolt Meerkat taunted as he threw out another blast of surging electrical energy after Pharaoh Man.

The goldenrod yellow and silvery black colored Robot Master dodged the blast, releasing his own superpowered blast, a Crescent Wave of energy that soared along.

Meerkat deftly leapt over it with ease, not even breaking a sweat…

If reploids could, Pharaoh Man thought with a small amount of his brain. He threw a smaller ball of energy after the reploid, tagging the wavy tail of the creature and melting the synthfur.

"I consider us to be on par, Maverick." Pharaoh retorted, narrowly avoiding a return blast of sizzling power. Meerkat let out a burst of indignant laughter at that, throwing both hands forth and unleashing a huge blast of power. 

This time, it hit Pharaoh Man dead on in his chest plate. The electrical bursts danced through his systems, causing him to twitch and writhe as the snakes ran through him. The others around him let out noises of surprise, and even Drill Man frowned at the terrible turn of events.

Pharaoh Man slumped onto one leg, his hand opening and closing as he gritted his teeth to the aggravating waves that threatened to make him scream.

"You…You're strong, Maverick." Pharaoh Man managed to erk out. Meerkat cackled insanely, jumping towards the robot and picking him easily off of the ground. Holding his dangling four foot nothing frame in the air, Megavolt Meerkat smiled, allowing his mouth of razor sharp teeth to be exposed.

"Oh my yes. And you…You're nothing more than a pathetic robot." Meerkat's grip grew tighter, his claws digging in around Pharaoh Man's throat, threatening to snap the spinal cord full of neurocables that allowed him to control his hands and legs.

Pharaoh Man's body finally slacked off the final shorts caused by Megavolt Meerkat's attack, restoring him full control. He drained another Energy Tank to bring himself back to full vitality, then remained slack, charging both gauntlets for an attack. They didn't whine like a Buster, and drew little attention.

Pharaoh Man stared blankly into Megavolt Meerkat's eyes, trying to create the illusion of a wounded stupor. Meerkat cackled, looking around himself to all the other Robot Masters encircling him.

A few, Ring Man included were beginning to edge their way in. Meerkat's eyes widened in annoyance. He jerked Pharaoh Man roughed up, holding him directly above his head in a gesture of relative ease.

"MOVE ANY CLOSER, AND YOUR FRIEND DIES!" Meerkat bellowed out, raising his other hand up until his fingers, curled outwards like lightning rods were pointed right at Pharaoh Man's forehead. 

Ring Man stopped, allowing himself to flash off a frown from his basic emotional responses. He looked at Pharaoh Man, who looked tattered, torn, and on the worse end of the gunbarrel.

"What's your move, robots?" Meerkat cackled insanely, lifting Pharaoh Man up even higher. Pharaoh Man adjusted his optics until he was looking at Ring Man, then spoke up calmly.

"Ring Man. The key's in the cage." Ring Man's eyes widened, then blinked in silent acknowledgement of the command by his leader.

Pharaoh Man had just told him to attack…

Because Pharaoh Man had a trick up his sleeve.

More precisely, up his gauntlet. 

So Ring Man began to charge at Megavolt Meerkat, holding his rings at the ready.

Meerkat cackled at the foolish move.

"Bad choice, robot." Meerkat's hand began to crackle with power, filling up with an electrical charge to end the life of the goldenrod yellow and silver black robot in his claw. 

Pharaoh Man's own gauntlets reached their peak energy at that moment, and he snapped his hands forth, unleashing a pair of devastating crescent moon blasts.

At his close range to Meerkat, the shots sliced clean through the more advanced metals and synthfur of the Maverick, severing both arms and freeing Pharaoh Man.

Meerkat screamed in pain, not only because his hands had just been surgically blasted off, but also because the electrical energy he had been charging up in his free hand now unleashed itself upon his body. 

As Ring Man flung both deadly metallic boomerangs at the Maverick, the final blow was dealt.

The rings slammed through the armor, allowing the electrical oversurge to burn its way into his critical systems.

The control circuitry on his Fusion Generator was one of the first things to blow.

After that went, the great Maverick known as Megavolt Meerkat vanished in nuclear fire. Pharaoh Man managed to scramble away somewhat before he blew, allowing only a small show of embarassment as the explosion threw him into the ground.

The darkness restored itself in Moscow's Red Square, and grumbling, Pharaoh Man picked himself up and brushed the soot from his headpiece. He looked at the spot where Megavolt Meerkat had been standing only moments before, now only a charred mark on the red brick roadways. He looked at his team, all of them in pristine condition.

He looked at the Hovertransport…what was left of it anyways.

And he finally acknowledged something.

THEY HAD WON. That thought filled him relief, and other more powerful emotions he could only identify as extreme joy and elation. He let his hands relax, knowing at long last there were no more forces here to contend with. 

"I think we've done it, people." Pharaoh Man finally said, letting the happiness fall into his voice, raising it a few notches above normal register. "I do believe that we've saved Mosow…indeed, all of the surrounding area…from the Maverick threat." Pharaoh Man smiled, the first pure smile that he had ever achieved as a robot.

No…

He was more than a robot. His artificial intelligence had taken leaps and bounds, and as long as he continued to live, it would eventually reach the level of a reploid's.

"I guess we head back to base now. We don't want anyone catching on who we are. If they did…they might try to stop us from doing this from now on."

"What?" Bright Man spoke up, waving his free hand. "You mean saving the world?" Pharaoh Man nodded.

"From what I've heard from X and Hazil, the GDC, which controls the Hunters, was limiting them down to a skeleton crew before this. If they find us, a vigilante group outside of their control, yet still working for the same goal, we'll be treated with as much respect as dirt…and probably scrapped as a menace to society." 

Ring Man furrowed his brow, scratching the top of his helmet with a Ring Boomerang.

"Somehow that seems…illogical. Why would a government force try to stop us from aiding them in the fight against a powerful force?" Pharaoh Man shrugged.

"Some humans are real jerks, Ring Man." Ring Man waited hesitantly, then spoke up again.

"I suppose. But others seem nice enough." Pharaoh Man's retort came quick.

"Do you know why?" Ring Man's eyes went wide in another preprogrammed response.

"No…Illuminate me." Bright Man responded easily, activating his flash bulb and providing a 100 Watt shine over them. Ring Man turned about, slightly miffed. "Not that kind of illumination, Bright." The orange Robot Master snorted for a moment in embarassment, then quietly turned his bulb off, letting the darkness encircle them. Pharaoh Man coughed for a moment, a rudimentary gesture meant only to draw their attentions back to him.

"The humans we find ourselves viewing as 'nice' are usually open minded, able to take suggestions, and adapt to new ideas and realities. It's how they've lived so long as a species." Toad Man raised his hand.

"They have lived long enough to create the technology that made us." Pharaoh Man's eyes glimmered for a moment, as he noticed that his team…his friends…Were also gaining new insight into their artificial intelligence protocols. 

They would evolve…together.

"True enough, Toad Man. They created us…and so much more." Pharaoh Man raised his optics to the starry sky above. "But we shall discuss this when we get back. Right now, I need to place a call to the MHHQ under a secure connection that Hazil gave me. And you all need to activate your warp generators and move out."

The four Robot Masters under Pharaoh Man's command quietly acknowledged his command, humming for a few moments before blinking out as bright beams of matter and energy. 

Pharaoh Man keyed up his left wrist's comm system, dialing in the number and setting in the encoder.

"This is Egypt here. Moscow is secure, and all the Mavericks have been eliminated. Tell the shimmering savior we wish him luck." Hazil's chuckling and gruff voice came over the link in reply.

"Acknowledged, Egypt. We've also gotten reports that Riyadh and Cairo are secure as well. You take care of yourself." The link clicked off.

Pharaoh Man took a rigid stance and brought his warp generator online.

"So there's only two rebellions left…" Pharaoh Man mused. "Washington D.C, and Rio De Janeiro."

The night claimed him with open arms.

X's comm signal had been cut off almost immediately as he'd sent it. However, for Bristol and a few members of the 17th that had opted to charge into Washington D.C's streets and stop the chaos already present before attacking the Hovertransport, it wasn't needed.

A quick return glance had shown them that it had been a trap, set up by Sigma's traitorous brilliance. X was on his own there, but he was doing all right for now. 

Bristol had barked orders to the makeup of veteran and recently promoted rookies at once, feeling a connection to her shadowed past at that moment.

"DISPERSE AND STABILIZE!" She had cried out, saying with those three words that the Hunters present needed to split up. They would handle themselves, taking out what Mavericks stood in their way, while at the same time seeing to the populace…

Bristol made her way towards ground zero where the cannon's laser pulse had hit. It wasn't too hard to find, a giant smoking source of cries of pain and anguish. 

It turned her stomach inside out, all those cries of people that she could do so little to help. But as the hot rage flared tears into her optics, she somehow clenched her fist and pushed on. 

"There's a job to be done here." Dashing down the rubble filled streets, Bristol activated her beam saber and slashed through an unknowing Maverick ground troop.

"Is there anyone alive out there?!" Bristol yowled out, hoping that by some miracle there was someone here that could still be saved.

"You…but not for long." A growly voice replied. Bristol's eyes widened as she tracked the source to somewhere above her. That was all the sound she needed to realize that she was in danger.

So she dashed out of the way. Not a moment too soon, either, because what was the ground she had been standing on only moments earlier vanished in an explosion of white hot plasma.

Bristol didn't know how she knew to do that…but something had told her to. Something in the far reaches of her mind, a part of the memory block that was still there, but unreachable. 

The result was the same. She lived. In a second burst of her hidden finesse, she followed the blazing trail of plasma bits in the air to its source, finding herself looking at a burly Maverick with a glare in his eye and an oversized Buster on his hand.

She used her Air-Dash Thrusters to place herself on top of the roof building the Maverick was on. Her body was bent downwards slightly, one hand curled around her saber and the other palm flat against the surface. Her legs were braced for a sprint, a wild coil ready to spring.

The Maverick lowered his Buster, bringing in another charge to fire. His dull eyes burned into Bristol's, but her own eyes also had a different sheen to them.

Their usual rosy colors had faded, her brow furrowed. The irises had shrunk, and it was all too clear who they were focused on. Like before, when she had been taken by surprise, something else was now in control of her movements.

"Nice trick, toots." The Maverick chuckled softly. "But you're dead like the rest of 'em." He fired.

Bristol's saber swung up, smashing the bolt of blue raging fire into the sky. Her thrusters activated, and her body was thrown forth towards the Maverick.

A second later, her pink saber bit into his side, the entire length of it serving to cleave his upper and lower halves in twain.

As he landed in pieces, the Maverick dazedly tried to retaliate, but found himself too stunned and in shock to respond. He gasped a few times, feeling his lifeblood pour away, and then finally his eyes shut.

Bristol released her held breath, her eyes shifting back into their normal mode. She blinked for a few moments, and then the realization of what she had done hit her.

She had taken the life of a Maverick. Now at last, she was a true Hunter.

But a part of it felt so wrong. Wrong that she had to resort to the most repugnant and extreme measure to stop the violence…with violence.

"But if I hadn't, he might have killed me, and whoever else was within shooting range." So by some measure, she'd done the right thing. 

She brushed off the sour cloud that tried to settle itself on her shoulders, and pushed on. There was one devastated building in particular that had some rather bizarre sounds emanating from it.

A quick hop down the side of her current position and a brisk run took her to it.

As she creaked the heavy wooden double doors open, she noticed that the room stank of smoke…and blood.

She shut off her olfactory sensors quickly to avoid any more unpleasant scents, then walked in.

"Hello?" She spoke up assertively, loud enough to be a normal voice, but not overpowering. The groans of the wounded and the dying were unmistakable.

"Are you…"

"I'm with the Maverick Hunters." Bristol replied calmly, shutting her beam saber off in a sign of non-aggression. As her eyes grew accustomed to the unlit conditions, she could see where the voices were coming from.

In the sea of death caused by the laser's deadly pulse, and the explosions that had followed, this tiny out of the way restaurant…she could see it was a restaurant now, by the look of the overturned tables…there were three men tucked away in a corner of the room.

She walked over to them, her clanking metallic boots seeming out of place on a floor that had only felt the cosmopolitan soles of the upper class. Kneeling down beside them, she could see that one, an African American man, was already dead. The other two were Caucasian males, and all three were dressed in fine clothes.

She quickly deducted that they were high ranking government officials. 

One of the two surviving men was breathing heavily, leaning against the wall for support while the other man braced his head. Bristol whistled in a sharp breath, realizing that by the welt of blood on the man's shirt, that something had been accelerated to intense speeds…

And been slammed through his chest. It had punctured a lung too. That was why the man was breathing so heavily.

The man who was relatively uninjured, only having a gash on the side of his temple looked at Bristol with frightened eyes.

"What happened?" Bristol reached into her chest compartment for a syringe of anesthetic, lowering it down to the injured man.

"The Mavericks are attacking Washington D.C. A good 3/4 of our Unit has been completely obliterated." The uninjured man's eyes went white with shock.

"Oh God no…" He began to stammer and shake. "But…but but but…The Mavericks were all destroyed!" Bristol shook her head wearily.

"They survived. Sigma survived." The man began to hyperventilate at the new discovery, his entire face growing white now.

"Ohmigodohmigodohmigod…." Bristol's head snapped up, her piercing blue eyes staring into him. 

"Sir, flipping out won't help matters in the least…now be a good sport and tell me what your name is."

"Senator Kelly…" He lifted his companion up, staring at her with a little less panic. "He's hurt bad." Bristol nodded.

"I noticed. Now I'm going to give him an anesthetic. It should slow his breathing some. I'll follow it up with a shot of concentrated oxygen so he won't suffocate." Kelly numbly nodded his wizened head, raising his companion up.

"Emilius…Emilius, wake up!" The wounded man groaned, his eyelids weakly trying to flutter open. He blinked dazedly a few more times, still breathing rapidly.

Upon seeing Bristol, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his mouth went wide open. In his crazed state, he spotted the shining metallic needle in her hand. 

He deftly swung his own arm across, slamming it loose and causing the glass cylinder to shatter. Bristol followed her anesthetic, then glared back at the wounded man like a nurse.

"Sir, I'm trying to save your life here!" But the gravely wounded man would not listen. Indeed, now that he was fully aware of his situation, his condition grew only worse by the moment.

"N…NooooooOOOO!" Cristoph gasped, looking like a fish out of water as he strained to speak. "You…Not you…" Bristol looked to the other man for aid, but found that he was as stunned by his gravely injured fellow's actions.

Bristol focused her icy gaze back on the dying man. 

"Sir, your LIFE is in Jeopardy every moment you keep this up. STOP!" Cristoph took in another large breath, sounding like a choking walrus.

"You…Bristol, MI9 should have…You're still…" Cristoph stumbled over his words for a few more moments, then finally stopped breathing. His eyes rolled up into his head, and his arms stopped flailing. 

Senator Kelly lay down beside the dead man for a few moments, then finally released his hold with shaky hands. He looked up at the reploid before him, his eyes stunned, surprised, and also accusing all at once.

"He…he knew you. He called you Bristol!" 

Bristol didn't respond to Kelly's words. As the man had spoken up suddenly with his halting final words, it had triggered something inside of her mind.

That block of forgotten memories had suddenly flashed, unleashing a torrent of blinding images all at once.

They had gone by too fast for her to make sense of them, but their effect was the same.

Bristol slumped to her knees beside the dead man, her eyes glazed over, her mouth hanging slightly open in a stupor. A small tear crept out of the corner of her eye.

_My past…_ Bristol thought in a stupor. _My…past…_

"HEY!" Bristol snapped out of it, to find herself staring at Senator Kelly. The impatient Irishman spoke up again. "He seemed to know yae from somewhere…What does that mean?" Bristol's mouth tried to form words, but failed. 

Instead, she looked at Mr. Kelly with a pleading stare.

"What was his name?" Bristol asked quietly, her voice teetering on tears. Senator Kelly sniffed back his own emotional strife and nodded.

"He was Emilius Cristoph. The representative of the AmeriCanadian Alliance for the GDC." That stunned Bristol even more.

Cristoph was the one who had pushed the GDC ultimatum. And now…

Now she…and he…

He was a part of her troubled past as well. And there was only one clue she had left to use now.

**MI9.**

"Your wounds are minimal, Mr. Kelly." Bristol managed to erk out. Her mind was all ablaze with the new data…

And she needed to work it out back at the MHHQ. 

Bristol vanished away from the melee of Washington D.C. in a burst of blue and pink fire.

There was much to be pondered.

"Inexperience has made you WEAK, X!" Ferret taunted, charging in at the leader of the 17th Unit in a slash thrust.

X weakly used his own dash systems to push himself in the air, away from his foe.

This fight had gone on for more than ten minutes, neither one gaining a definitive edge or a solid blow. Glancing, at best, and X's Koala Slash claws were wearing down from the stress. Soon, he would be forced to use his Hyper Cannon as his main weapon…Or his Narwhal Cannon.

Neither one was too reliable against this wiry Maverick. Only his long reign as the chief Hunter at the MHHQ was saving him from defeat now…

He couldn't keep it up forever. At least he noticed Fluid Ferret was wearing down as well. Even in his Golden Third Armor, X was skimming a razor thin margin of power with him. 

But there was another power that X was relying on to aid him in the fight. This was not a Repliforce troop, like Storm Owl or Frost Walrus. This Maverick deserved to die…

And X deserved revenge. For the last time they had met, Ferret had won. For himself, and also everyone around him, X had to triumph.

Had to. There was no other viable option. 

X dropped down from his high perch in the air, using his last thrust boost from his second burst to peg himself down on a course towards the fast Maverick below.

Ferret raised his eyes, noting X's sudden move with just a tinge of disinterest, but also contempt. X's claw, sprouted from his left hand's wrist gauntlet clashed with Ferret's own. Ferret giggled insanely, flipping his arm in a wild arc and deflecting X from himself.

That was all the opportunity X needed to level his right hand's Buster and fire off a shot from his Hyper Cannon. It tracked underneath Ferret's stance, slamming deep into his gut.

For once, the Maverick let out a wild cry of pain in the battle, one hand lowering to defend against any more shots. 

Ferret drew himself to his full height, looking at X with dead eyes, filled with only the Virus, and what tattered piece of himself was still in control.

"You have some nice moves, X. But one way or another, I'll win this day. Just like the last time, I'll rip you to shreds, or infect you. It's your choice." 

X growled, ignoring the beads of sweat that fell into his eyes.

"I'd rather die than join your sickening cause." Ferret sighed, feigning sorrow.

"Oh, poo. So many people say that…but in the end, I can see the fear in their eyes, and I know they had wished they had chosen the less fatal path." Ferret drew his hands up, cackling softly. "X, it's time to end this. My paint job is scuffed up enough as it is." 

Energy began to coalesce about Fluid Ferret, causing X to take pause for a moment. 

Fluid Ferret didn't have a Buster, so why would he…

"NO…" X whispered for a moment, remembering what Wycost had said back in the HQ about Ferret and his new skills.

"You might as well call it the Ferret Freeze for now…" was Wycost's exact words. 

X raised his Buster and fired off a shot. Ferret cackled insanely for a moment, a bright purple redness filling his eyes as he lifted a claw and deflected X's pathetic attack away from himself.

"Sorry, X. You get the FULL RIDE." Ferret let out a feral scream at long last, extending his arms as if unleashing an explosion from within.

Which was exactly what it was. The energy he had collected surged into the nanobots of his systems, releasing themselves out into the air as a deadly cloud.

That cloud surrounded X and Ferret, a dark black and purple haze that blotted out all outside stimuli. As the Virus infected nanobots drew closer to X, he could feel them seep into his systems, taking control.

He screamed at the foreign presence in his mind, growing stronger every moment with its droning pulsations. It took control of him, and X found he couldn't raise his arms in the least to retaliate.

The Virus had taken hold of him. Ferret cackled insanely, walking through the storm with not a care in the world. 

"Face it, X. You've lost. You're nothing more than a puppet in Sigma's grand scheme…" X grunted, his face tilting with what measure of self control he still harbored.

"Damn…you…" Ferret chortled. 

"Oh, I've changed, X. I've grown stronger. And yet you still face me with the same weaponry you did all those months ago in Antarctica…Have you learned nothing, X? This new attack is given to me by the power of the Virus, the power of SIGMA!" Ferret's sharp fingers traced the lines of X's jaw, reaching down around his neck as if to slash his throat to ribbons. The sweat ran down X's jaw, falling onto the metallic fingers. Ferret twitched suddenly, a fingertip puncturing into X's synthskin. A small trickle of blood ran down the talon of death, and X grunted in defiance.

"Tell me X…why do you refuse to become a part of this power?! It can make you invincible!" X panted heavily, turning his head up until he looked in Ferret's sunken optics with his own. 

"Because it means that every day, all of my being is not controlled by me, but by a damnable computer virus that tells me only to destroy and infect and cause suffering in the world." Ferret sighed, waving a pointed claw.

"Pity that you feel that way, my dear X. You are strong, I've noted that, and so has Sigma. For that reason, you'll live…It's time to change sides, my dear X." Ferret grinned, his eyes shining a dark and sinister luster. "It's time to become a Maverick." 

X's eyes went wide at what he heard Ferret utter.

"Gods, no!" X gasped, straining against his bonds. Ferret saw X's futile gesture of opposition and laughed even louder.

"Oh, come on now! Even Wycost put up more of a fight against me than what you're doing…and HE went Maverick as well!" X grunted, tilting his head up when the Virus commanded him to turn it down.

"I know, you monster…we had to bring him out of it." Ferret blinked for a moment, stopping his tirade.

"Bring him out of it?" X grunted, smiling weakly.

"Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you he did a SELF DELETE on the Virus. He won out over it, Ferret…you may think it makes you invincible, but it only weakens you." Ferret growled for a moment, then his right hand flew out and struck X across the cheek. More blood was drawn from X's synthskin.

"LIAR!" Ferret snarled, baring his teeth and animalian temper. "NO ONE can defeat the Virus in the form it took in me!" 

X raised himself up, pushing his system beyond its limits as he fought off the Virus's control over him.

Ferret cried out in a feral rage, increasing his power to the Freeze Field. X froze again, feeling the Virus's tendrils reach deeper and harder than before. He screamed out in pain as the droning commands began to echo about in his skull.

Ferret laughed.

"I told you! There is NOTHING that can defeat the Virus! It is all consuming, all absorbing! Give into it, join its strength!" Ferret grinned, rubbing his chin for a moment as his dark mind spun into overdrive. "I wonder, X…when you're Maverick, what should Sigma do with you? Should he have you warp back to base before activating the Berserker code? Watching you blow the MHHQ to atoms would be a LOT of fun…" 

Ferret stepped around behind the straining X, still talking on. 

"And what of the others? Zero, Wycost? Should we have you destroy them too? Tell me, perhaps Cain is a worthy target…that old man has lived long past his time." 

Something snapped inside X at that moment.

If he was infected, Fluid Ferret and Sigma would degrade him beyond the level of an adversary. They would not even grant him death…

They would turn him into a monster. A monster Light had often feared, that X would turn against humanity. 

The role Zero might have played if Sigma had never fought him…would become X's. 

"NOO!" X screamed, straining even harder. Ferret cackled, not noticing the buildup of energy within X. He walked a full circle, planting his disgusting face of teeth in front of X's, grinning like a madman.

"Tell me, X…How would you kill a little human girl? Blow her to vapor with an X-Buster shot, or rip her into carrion with your Koala Slash? I'm so very eager to find out!" 

That tore it. All the restraints and holds that the Ferret Freeze held over X vanished as his antiviral systems kicked into overdrive, dousing the area with a high intensity blast of energy and light, that overloaded and destroyed the nanobots with their Virus programming.

The cloud of control over X vanished in a burst of smoke, and the Hunter charged.

He charged at Fluid Ferret, knocking him flat on his back and pinning his limbs to the ground. With a high pitched war cry, X slammed his helmeted head down, crushing in Ferret's skull and dealing a serious blow. 

Ferret yowled in surprise and pain, trying furiously to reach up with his jaws and clamp around X's neck so he could sever the neural spinal cord. X's left hand spun about, slamming Ferret full on in the jaw, knocking his face flat back onto the ground.

Ferret scrambled furiously, turning the tables and rolling X onto the ground with the Maverick on top.

There was no calm storm in X's eyes now, only the rage that came with knowing that this Maverick had to die. That scared Ferret deeply, but he continued to struggle.

His Virus programming demanded it. 

"BASTARD!" Ferret yowled, his arms reaching furiously to try and lash X.

But the Hunter had other objectives. There was no sound from X's throat.

Just the burning rage in his eyes and the deadness within them.

With what seemed to be such little effort, X tore Fluid Ferret's right arm completely out of its socket, proceeding to bash the Maverick over the head with his new makeshift club.

While Ferret screamed out in pain, trying to block the blows with what was left of his other hand, X moved his feet quickly and kicked the Maverick up into the air.

X's right hand shifted back into a Buster, whining for a blink of a microsecond as he used his stored energy to fire a shot from his Hyper Cannon.

It caught Fluid Ferret right in his stomach, making the Maverick cough up a mouthful of blood on top of what he was losing from his arm socket.

The jumbled mess of Maverick landed back to earth, slumping on his back and gasping for air, his eyes shifting and fading as he weakly looked up in stunned disbelief.

"I…I can't be destroyed…" Ferret gasped. X stepped above him, taking Ferret's discarded limb and jamming its TitaniTefloalloy claws into the Maverick's stomach. Ferret cried out in pain, doubling up before weakly slumping back down in defeat.

X looked at the Maverick with his dull, rage filled eyes. He lifted his Buster, and pointed it right at Fluid Ferret's hair covered head, those twitching ears.

"You are a Maverick…and if I didn't destroy you, you would destroy us all." Ferret took in a final breath, cackling even in his last moments up at X.

"Congrats, X…you've defeated me. How does it feel to murder again? Pretty good, right?" X growled at his words, and Ferret continued, his laugh growing louder. "You're so very close to joining us, infection or not!" 

X couldn't take any more of this hateful vermin.

He pulled the trigger. Twice.

What had been the skull and face of Fluid Ferret ceased to be, melted into a pile of slag and circuits. His control chip did not survive.

And that's what X wanted. No chance of survival for him or his hated presence in the world. 

Fluid Ferret's Fusion Generator whined down, for now with the circuitry of the Maverick's mind destroyed, there was no control over it. The safety protocols had kicked in, dousing the reaction and ceasing it until Fluid ferret was nothing more than an empty shell of metal, synthfur and synthskin, and sinister Virus infected blood. Destroying Ferret completely would annihilate both him and the Virus, so that Sigma couldn't turn around and reconstruct him later.

This new form of the Virus was incredibly dangerous. Only rage had helped X defeat it…a rage that made him hate himself as much as the Mavericks. Saddening tones from the First Uprising resurrected themselves in his mind, and X let out a maddening scream, stepping back and using the rest of his Hyper Cannon energy to completely melt and vaporize the Maverick General known as Fluid Ferret into atoms.

"You can no longer harm the world, monster." X choked out, his hot tears threatening to blind him. Sending up an arm, he sluiced the hot liquid away and looked at the Hovertransport. His angered gaze, his full wrath as a Hunter was restored at last.

He had two Sub-Tanks left, no Hyper Cannon, and only a quarter of his Koala Slash…a bit more of his Narwhal Cannon. 

"SIGMA!!!" X screamed out, banging his chest plate with his good fist, pointing his weakened right arm up at the metallic carrier. "FACE ME AND BE DESTROYED!" 

Sigma's chuckle came over the external loudspeakers, causing X to step into a defensive stance and begin to charge both arms with plasma energy.

After all, he could. Both his Second and Third Armor Sets had the ability to do that. If he had worn any other set besides one of those two, he would be dead from his blunder.

"Congratulations are in order, X. The year of silence has not destroyed your ability for destruction in the least. Now you stand before me, my Maverick General Ferret destroyed in a fiery blaze of your Buster, and you pushed beyond your limits, ready to end my life as well."

The Hovertransport opened up, and a tall figure stepped out. Seven feet, with broad shoulders, and a bald head that glinted off sunlight while the rest of him was blocked by the sun's glare.

"Sigma…" X growled low in his throat. 

Five times before this monster had caused death, destruction, and suffering of the worst caliber. Everyone on earth hated him, and everyone hated reploids because of him.

Sigma took a huge leap and landed lightly twenty feet away from X. One hand clutched a menacing beam scythe, while the other was curled into a fist, ready to strike.

Lightning seemed to flash from Sigma's eyes as he looked on X with a cross between hatred and amusement. His chest seemed to heave up and down in a chuckle, and Sigma's sardonic grin grew wider.

"Well, well, X. It seems we are always destined to meet on the field of battle, our hands at each other's throats for supremacy. Who will win, X? The Hunter…or the Maverick? Five times before we have played this game of cat and mouse, and every time I return stronger, wiser and awaiting our next battle with a childlike fever." Sigma's mouth let loose a small chuckle. "X, I will win. That is a certainty I have come to accept. The only question that you have any power to answer is WHEN." 

Sigma curled into his own stance, holding his beam scythe steady with both hands. 

"So tell me, X…are you ready to try your luck? The game is almost over, and the final round has been called."

X's Busters finally reached the Red Charge level, and he stared down Sigma with his own optics, flaring with the power to stop this menace before more innocents suffered.

"I'd watch yourself, Sigma. My dice are loaded."

Airborne Albatross unleashed another devastating salvo of homing missiles at his airborne opponent, his wings extending back so he could glide back for a gun blast. 

Bastion unleashed a second blast of his Lightning Shot, igniting one missile and causing the others to explode in the resulting shrapnel fury of the first. 

He pushed his magnetic fields into overdrive, skimming along at a speed of repulsion he could have never reached in his Powerstorm Wings.

"Seven hundred…Eight Hundred…NINE HUNDRED MILES PER HOUR!" Bastion screamed, feeling the air tear at his limbs, whipping about and heating his armor to unbearable degrees of heat. He was on the verge of immolation as he streaked towards Airborne Albatross, and Bastion realized with a sudden jolt of fear that Hazil's warnings were correct. If he wasn't careful, this suit could push him to an early demise.

But he reached Albatross before the Maverick could even level a winggun at him, and with a howling cry, Bastion swung his beam staff at the Maverick.

Albatross dodged, and his critical systems survived the attack. His legs however were shorn off in a blaze of contained plasma, and began the long thousand foot drop to the city below. 

Albatross howled out in pain, his right hand curling up to smash down on Bastion's shoulder and unleash some of his rage. Bastion took the blow with a grunt, then finished his flight with a charge right into the Maverick's gut. 

His intense speed slammed Albatross out of kilter, and the two tumbled downwards for a hundred feet before righting themselves, both breathing heavily from their exertions. 

"The air suits you, Hunter. I can see that much…and you've gained an extra saber to boot." Albatross winced, finally feeling his leg veins seal off to contain his precious energy carrying blood. "But you shall not win this war! What happens this day is only in the present…"

Albatross backed off a few more feet, still cackling. He extended a wing, using his other wing's thrusters to keep him afloat. He pointed its gunbarrels at Bastion and fired.

Bastion swerved up in a burst of speed only his new suit could grant him. Albatross tried to track him, firing a continuous stream of hot streaming metal.

Bastion growled, swerving parallel without turning his body. His new wings gave him immeasurable freedom in the air, and made it impossible for any foe to track him using the tilt of his body. 

Within less than three seconds, Bastion had positioned himself right behind Albatross, his beam staff separated into the blue and purple individual sabers. He crossed them over Albatross's neck, his hot breath on the back of the Maverick's head.

"The air suits me more than fine, Maverick. I have already killed you once before, and that last time, we both went plummeting. This time is different. My wings will stay in place." Albatross began to quiver, not moving. If he did, the sabers would sever his neck instantly.

"Oh, I can taste the fear in your exhaust, Albatross. Tell me…how did it feel to be destroyed the last time we did this? Can you remember how your body slammed into the ground at sixty feet per second, from a height of dizzying proportions? What broke upon impact…What was left undamaged?" Bastion cackled insanely, feeling something inside of him take over.

He knew what it was. His old guise…the Desert Fire.

"Your situation is not new, Albatross. Back during the First Robot Rebellion of Mega Man's age, the Blue Bomber faced down a particularly deadly robot known as Elec Man. Do you know what he said then?" Albatross didn't say anything, not even daring to breathe. Bastion sighed. "Pity. I will inform you. Just before Rock ended that fool's existence, he uttered a statement that I will say to you." 

Albatross shut his eyes, waiting for the hot blade to bite into him. Bastion tightened his grip on his sabers and spoke up.

"The problem with Wax Wings…is that they can be clipped." 

Bastion swung his sabers out from Albatross's neck, and the Maverick thought he could escape. He shot forth…

And with a blinding pain, realized he was far from alive. He was dead.

Bastion had sliced both wings clean off of the Maverick, the pieces of metal, missiles, bullets and thruster fuel falling for a short distance before exploding.

Bastion's right hand held Albatross by the scruff of his neck, his purple saber in his left hand at his neck again.

"I've clipped your wings, Maverick. Now your death is your choice. The ground…or my saber?" 

Albatross let out his ragged breath, his eyes beginning to shut as his body screamed at him with his critical energy levels.

"I'll take the ground…you murderer." Bastion smirked, shaking his hair back.

"I am not a follower of traditional dogma, Maverick. I believe it's an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. The murderer is you…I am merely the equalizer."

Bastion released his grip. Airborne Albatross, shorn of his wings and feet, fell as a screaming mass of Maverick.

The ground and jungle below seemed to raise up, swallowing him. And then the screams ceased.

Bastion's eyes went back to normal, and he calmly placed his saber back into its holster.

"45% power in my Wings…I'd best get some flight in." Bastion raised his red tinted HUD flight goggles, calmly brushing through the air at 100 MPH. He lifted his wrist up and pushed his comm switch.

"Bastion here. 21st Unit, Report!" 

"Yo, Gavin here! The hovertransport's slag…no casualties! A few wounds, though…" 

"Jad. Kol and I led our strike team successfully through the city. Rio De Janeiro's Maverick free, boss. We lost two, though…" Bastion's mood stayed about the same.

Casualties were expected in war. The fact they only had two deaths was a miracle in itself.

"Roger that. Make a final sweep of the area, then warp back to base. I'm calling in with our report." Bastion switched to a different comm frequency and bounced his signal to the MHHQ in Tokyo.

"Bastion here! Rio De Janeiro's secure…we're coming back home." 

"Glad to hear it, Bastion." Came Cain's throaty reply. "Your success makes it four. The only person we haven't heard back from yet is X, in Washington D.C." 

Bastion furrowed his eyebrows.

"X? He might be in trouble. I'm not too far from there…I'm going up North to check on him."

"X will appreciate the aid, Bastion." Cain said. "Just don't get yourself killed." 

"I don't intend to, sir." Bastion replied, shutting off his comm. "For Bristol's sake…I will live."

Bastion blinked out from the tropical skies of Rio De Janeiro, his warp signal making a hot streak towards Washington D.C.

It was time to end this.

"Do I go…or not go?" Bristol sniffed. In her room at the HQ, she sat in the darkness, silently running over everything she knew again. Her blond hair, streaked with light red bands draped over the back of her chair, and she stared up at the ceiling.

She was crying. Crying because she was torn between two worlds.

The one she had lost, and the one she would lose. 

It was driving her mad, like she was tugged between two giants in a game of contest. She reached for her beam saber, igniting it with a gentle flick of her thumb and staring into its glowing length. Her eyes caught its fire, glowing sharply, as if being near it gave her more strength. 

"Who I was before…is so very close to who I am now…" Bristol whispered, feeling the blade radiate its heat outwards. She turned it off. 

Walking over to her window, she opened it up. Tokyo seemed to light up the entire night sky with its brilliance, giving her another reflection to look into.

Perhaps she hoped the light would illuminate the shadows she could not understand inside of her mind.

Slowly…somewhat painfully…memories were coming back to her. But she had so little to go on. Only a name…two of them. Emilius Cristoph…and MI9.

She shut her curtain. She let a small sob of pain come from within her, and then she was silent. A delicate gloved hand reached up and pushed her tears away.

"I'm sorry, Bastion…" Bristol whispered, as if he was in the room with her. "I have to do this…"

She turned around, packing everything she had into a duffel bag in her drawer.

It took less than a minute. She left nothing behind, and as she walked out her door, she began to make tracks to leave. The less said to everyone nearby, the better.

Cain had already gotten her report…of how a good chunk of the 17th wouldn't be making the trip back home. That was the final act as a member of the MHHQ. 

But something made her pause her brisk walk towards the exit of this place. Something nagging insider her mind was keeping her here, trying to prevent her from leaving.

It was her love for Bastion. She owed him an explanation, at least.

Through hot tears, she whirled back around and began to walk towards his room. 

She didn't see the form of J.K. Horn walking behind her, and she didn't expect to walk into him when she made the turnaround.

"Woaah there, big slugger…" Horn said in surprise, holding his hands up. "Where's the fire?" Bristol shook her head, trying to prevent the reploid from seeing her.

"Let me pass!" Bristol choked out, lowering her head. Horn's sturdy hands reached down and rested on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. 

Horn's eyes were filled with concern and tenderness.

"Bristol, you're running away. Care to tell me why?" Bristol's body seemed to shrink down in defeat, and she choked out another sob.

"I have to leave Bastion a message before I go…"

"You haven't said WHY you're leaving yet." Horn said sternly. "Why would you want to leave this? You have a reploid who cares for you, and promise as a member of the Hunters." 

"Because…" Bristol stammered. "Because, I left a life behind me, and I need to find it again!" Horn sighed.

"Bristol, have you even planned this out?" Bristol shook her head.

"I just want to leave before they return…leaving them then would be too hard." Horn shook his head.

"So it's a spirit walk you have to go on." Horn looked into her eyes again, his face lighting up. "But I'll be damned if you walk away not ready for this." Horn reached a hand down to his pants pocket, pulling out a wallet. He removed a small plastic card and held it up. "My account card…You can't wander the earth looking for yourself if you can't afford the trip. Take it." Bristol's shaking hand reached up and grabbed a hold of it, her eyes questioning the action. Horn radiated a sad smile.

"I'm old, Bristol. Allow an old man to throw his money away if he wishes it. This new Maverick problem means the end of URFAWP…I have nothing else to put my monetary influence to. The password is the names that go to my first two initials…Julius Kinnian." 

"Thank you." Bristol said in a quavering voice. Horn released his hold on her shoulders.

"Now go." Horn said calmly. "Leave your message and go. You take my prayers with you." Bristol walked away, then ran. 

Her eyes were even moister now. Staying behind was making this all too painful.

Bastion's room.

As she opened the door, the light inside flickered on. She spied a nearby pad of paper and a pen. Her eyes fell as she sniffled back another sob.

"Forgive me, Bastion. Forgive me."

The ground became a scarred marker of itself as Sigma's eye lasers raked the ground with their devastating heat. X scampered out of the way with a sideroll, unleashing his charged shot.

Moments later X cried out in pain as the electrical discharges from Sigma's earth planted beam scythe ran through him like a snake. Using what strength he could muster from his battered system, X hopped into the air and used his Air Dash Thrusters to avoid the strafing fields below.

Sigma laughed from his position, stopping his attack and picking up his scythe once more. He lightly walked on a cushion of air from his feet, a part of his shoe design that allowed him to avoid the blistering electrical attack of his own weapon. He looked up into the sky at X and shook his massive head.

"Fool…did you think you could outrun me that easily?" X glared down below him, firing off a fury of shots from his Buster. Sigma's shoulder blades blew off their launching mechanisms, turning into spinning boomerangs that used microjets to keep themselves suspended. For now, they raced up towards the storm in the sky, meeting the plasma bursts and causing them all to burst in a dazzling light show, neutralizing the attack.

A fresh set appeared on Sigma's shoulders, and the great leader of the Maverick leapt high into the air after X, holding his scythe steady with both hands for a massive strike.

The blade narrowly missed X, but the blistering heat left a scarring scorch mark along the side of his chest plate. X retaliated with a midair kick, firing off a small green charge shot to knock the scythe loose. 

Sigma and X landed on the ground. X panted and switched to his Narwhal Cannon, turning bright shades of green along with his gold plating. Sigma rubbed his jaw where X's boot had slammed into it, quietly nursing the small wound.

He glared at X and reset his stance.

"My dental plan doesn't cover facekicks, X. You'll have to pay that bill…out of your HIDE!" Sigma charged at X, holding his scythe halfway, ready to block any shots but at the same time readying himself for a horizontal cut.

The wily Hunter used his Dash Thrusters to push himself away and to the side from Sigma's assault. The Maverick followed with his own systems, and X quietly acknowledged that the fool wanted a fight. 

Sigma drew in closer to X, swinging his blade with a powerful yell. X ducked neatly underneath the attack, springing up after the swipe and hitting Sigma neatly in the jaw with a solid uppercut from his left fist. Not nearly as effective as his Shoryuken Dragon Punch in his Second Set, but good enough.

Sigma and X were jarred loose from one another, and the two righted themselves. As if linked by a psychic connection, both X and Sigma unleashed their projectile attacks at once. 

By some miracle, the Narwhal Cannon bursts and Sigma's shoulder 'rangs passed by each other without colliding. The two foes were completely taken aback by the other's strike, and both were knocked flat.

Sigma was enveloped in a cloud of high explosives, and X was pinned neatly to the ground, three of Sigma's blows having gone straight through his left and right arms, and left leg. They had pinned him to the ground, and in his weakened condition, X couldn't break free.

He could only stare up at the sky above him, cloudless and bright. Why did it have to be that on such a terrible massacre, mother nature chose to smile?

He lay there motionless, noting with grim interest that Sigma was struggling to get up.

The Maverick roared for a moment, leaning on his beam scythe and managing to pick himself up off of the ground.

He limped over next to X, noting with his sick pleasure that X could not lift a finger--or Buster--to face him.

"It seems the game is mine this day, X." Sigma rasped, beginning to chuckle low in his aching belly. He too had suffered wounds from this battle.

X shut his eyes, hearing Sigma draw closer. Slowly, ever so slowly he began to charge up his weapons matrix again. Slow enough that Sigma would not hear the whine of matter and energy into X's frame until it was too late.

"You are silent, X?" Sigma cackled, finally standing over the Hunter. X kept his eyes shut, opening his mouth and letting out a moan of pain. In his wounded state, it wasn't too hard to do. Sigma smirked, and X could almost picture the superior sick grin on his face above him. 

"Well, that's too bad, my dear Hunter. You played well, but in the end, the question has been answered. I have won…and you have chosen to let me do so on this day." Sigma raised up his beam scythe above his head, ready to drive it down upon X to split him from head to thigh.

X's eyes snapped open, and he fixated Sigma with a twisted grimace of pain and satisfaction.

"I still have one more roll to throw, Sigma." X finally let his weapons matrix complete its charge. With his Narwhal Cannon already selected, the Master Weapon took on the form of its charged self.

Instantly, a shield of explosive spines appeared all over X's arms, legs, and chest. Sigma's gaze changed into horror as his mouth dropped open.

He didn't even have time to scream. 

X let his shots fly, feeling their tiny engines push the spines away. More than half of them struck the overbearing mass of Sigma head on, burrowing into his body slightly before exploding and opening hole after ravaging hole upon him.

The noise of the attack filled the air for what seemed like an eternity to the aching Hunter pinned to the ground. Then…silence.

X drained another Sub-Tank, feeling the increased life energy flow into him. With his newfound strength, X ripped his arms free of the ground, then calmly plucked the offending shoulder boomerangs free of their tiny wounds. Little blood came out of them…the health recharge was serving his regeneration systems well.

X looked over to where Sigma lay dying, his body a mess of sparking wires, open wounds and embedded fragments of the explosive Narwhal shells. His face was contorted into a sick grin, but X could see that it was laced tightly with immeasurable pain.

X stepped next to Sigma, glaring down at him.

"You haven't won yet, monster." Sigma breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling. 

"No…not yet. But I will, X…" Sigma laughed softly. "This defeat is no more permanent than any of the others before it…Do you know why, X?" X glowered down upon him.

"Because you have already set up another base of operations somewhere hidden, to where you'll send your corrupted core program to rebuild." 

Sigma nodded, but his laughs only got louder.

"Just one? Just one, X?" Sigma shook his head. "X, Fluid Ferret and I have been in hiding for more than a year…Did you honestly think that in such a broad span of time, we would only make ONE?" 

The hair on X's neck froze, extending out in a twisted look.

"No…" Sigma cackled even louder.

It was the sound of a warp signal crashing to earth only meters from X's position that brought the Blue Hunter out of his trance. He looked over in shock to find himself looking at Bastion, who stared at X, and then down at Sigma in stunned disbelief.

"You…you took him out…on your own!" Sigma hissed at the new Hunter.

"Of course he did! It has been a favorite game of ours since the beginning…I take out all his friends, and then goad him into facing me!" Sigma reasserted his gaze on X and grinned again.

"Oh my yes…you can do a lot in a year. The new Maverick strain unfortunately has been destroyed, along with Fluid Ferret. You saw to that quite well, X…But it was that strain that allowed us to do the unthinkable." 

Sigma drew in a breath, not trying to get up. 

"Scattered hundreds of feet underground in a hundred different locations all over the earth, X…Fluid Ferret and I coerced innocent URFAWP residents to give their lives over to us. Some resisted more than others, but with so many different strengths to the Virus, they all gave in at the end. Those slaves built our lairs…and then they became entombed in them. Sleeping warriors, infected, their memories wiped, knowing only what my commands tell them, waiting only for my signal…" Sigma cackled out loud. "Your victory today is as hollow as any, X! From those underground bases, I can create as many Maverick servants as I want to my cause!"

X's mouth went dry. He had seen an underground base of Sigma's description once before. 

It had been during the Third Uprising…Buried deep within the bowels of the corrupted Dr. Doppler's lair.

X had found himself staring agape back then, looking at hundreds and hundreds of generation capsules, capable of producing drones or Maverick servants, but not true reploids. Back in that Uprising, every single capsule had held a body…of Sigma.

Each one with their unblinking, unwavering eyes, their motionless fingers, their unbreathing chests.

Each one, that could at any moment activate with his consciousness and leap out, ready to tear X limb from limb.

Now that nightmare of then had restored itself…

A hundred times over, said Sigma.

"I give you the game today, X…" Sigma rasped happily, his hollow laughing shattering the dismal vestiges of hope within the Blue Hunter. "But the tournament is far from over…and in the end, X…I will win. I WILL WIN!"

A low guttural noise began to rattle about in X's throat as his eyes glazed over. His fists tightened up, and his left Buster activated.

The noise grew louder, turning into a moan, then a wail.

Finally, it turned into a scream. All the pent up rage in X seemed to turn from its icy form into a raging water. 

Rage because of Ferret's survival.

Sigma's return.

The obliteration of almost his Entire Unit.

"SIGMAAA!!!" X screamed out, with such force that even Bastion stumbled back a few steps.

X pointed his Buster at Sigma's head. He fired.

And fired.

X didn't stop.

Finally, X stopped, although his arm continued to spasm as if he was firing. 

Nothing was left of Sigma but a smouldering pile of colored metal.

X slumped weakly to the ground beside it, the water of his rage turning into sorrow.

Bastion stepped next to X and helped him get up. With the exhausted X leaning on him, the sobered Bastion activated his wrist comm.

"Bastion here, base. I have X…Sigma's destroyed. We're coming home." Bastion clicked it off. No sense in a response.

Bastion looked at X, saw the tears in his eyes. His heart reached out to the fellow warrior.

This being…Mega Man X…

This Hunter had given up his life to prevent the world from the menace of Sigma.

Truly, he was the greatest Hunter.

"Come on, X." Bastion said quietly. "Put the waterworks on hold. We've won…Sigma's attacks were all blunted." X shook his head, his eyes dimming into hopelessness.

"It doesn't matter…he'll attack again and again. Every time he does, we're weakened. No matter how hard we try…every win is nothing more than a Futile Victory."

Bastion shook his own weary head, knowing with his own falling heart that X was right.

"Then do it because we can. The longer we hold out, the greater the chances we'll find a way to defeat him completely." Bastion looked into his eyes with a pleading stare.

"If we don't do it X…no one will." X nodded somberly, turning his head back to the ground.

"Then the war goes on…"

"It never stopped, X." Bastion said. "We only had a short pause." The two Hunters activated their warp generators, transmuting their bodies into a mass of matter and contained energy. Then they burst up into the sky, streaming blips of light.

It was time to go home.

It was time indeed.


	18. Dismal Prospects

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: DISMAL PROSPECTS

It was close to Midnight when all the Hunters finally arrived back at base. Some of the newer ones opted to throw a party in the Cafeteria, and lacking crate paper, they relied heavily on spiked punch and loud music. The leaders of the various strike teams, minus the group known as the Foregone Five, were all gathered in Cain's office for a massive debriefing.

Cain had the good hooch out. But Wycost was absent, back in the Medical Bay recuperating from his wounds and taking a well deserved rest. Doan took his place as the Cairo team.

Cain, settled back in his fake leather chair and his cool blue lighting, looked down on his ragged Hunters with silent eyes.

"So we lost more than 75% of the 17th Unit, none from Zero's, Bastion lost two, and Wycost's force of four lost Andante." Cain sighed, shaking his head. "We won, but Sigma was right. We can't keep being mopped on the floor like this." 

Zero gently tumbled the seven year old scotch around in his shot glass thoughtfully for a few moments, then in a swift motion swallowed the entire dose in one gulp.

"Is there any good news to come out of this?" Cain nodded slowly, his wrinkled hand reaching to his keyboard. He typed in his password, then brought up his vidmail box.

"There was. With Emilius Cristoph killed in the attack on Washington D.C, the GDC has reconsidered its Ultimatum and withdrawn it. Sigma's reappearance warrants an extension on our organization's life." Cain's eyes sparkled angrily. "It's not much good news, but it's some." 

"So we're alive…we're alive because we're being asked to cause more death." X said acidly, his voice seeping with his inner rage. "Sigma's out there somewhere in one of his hidden bases, laughing his head off and planning his next strike. And there's nothing we can do about it." The glass in X's hand began to shake, his anger quivering through his body.

Bastion raised a hand.

"Hey, no matter what, we have a job to do. I joined up here because I wanted a reason to fight. A good reason. Saving the world seems as good as any…and I'm a lot better off here than I ever was before." Cain had heard from Zero about Bastion's shady past in the Jihad, and merely nodded his head.

The Hunters had often been considered to be where the most violent reploids went, to vent their anger and crush others. Bastion was not the typical example of that.

Soft-spoken, well mannered…and yet able to wield his sabers with a skill surpassed only by Zero. 

"No matter what happens, it's up to us to set it right." Doan said, his own eyes tired from the night's exertions. "I joined up because my life was torn apart by Sigma's twisted ambitions. Let it happen to no other while I'm here."

Those words silenced the somber and quiet doubts of all those in the room. Bastion calmly put his glass down and looked over at X with a questioning glance.

"Is Bristol all right?" Cain coughed.

"I can answer that, Bastion. She showed up here about twenty minutes before you and X did. She gave me a quick report about Cristoph's death, then…" Cain's voice trailed off as he failed to grasp the right words. Bastion frowned.

"What? Then what?" Cain lifted his shoulders and dropped them in defeat.

"Bastion, she had this look on her face as if she'd seen a ghost. Something happened out there in Washington D.C. that just completely changed her. She walked out of my office, and I haven't seen her since." 

Bastion rubbed his chin for a moment.

"She couldn't have gone far." Bastion looked around him. "I think we're done here. Let's all just take it easy the rest of the night, and wake up refreshed tomorrow. Sigma's return means we need to keep ready…but for now, we relax and forget the world rests on our heavy shoulders."

Bastion walked out of the room. X and Zero looked at each other.

A pair of old friends that had been through it all.

Hell and back. They shrugged. Zero spoke up.

"We gonna go get drunk?"

"Cognac?"

"Naah, Rum."

"You buying?"

"Sure."

"All right then." X said with finality. They left the room as well, making tracks for whatever port they could attain their alcohol from.

Finally, only Doan and Cain were left, looking at each other.

Doan's silent eyes and frozen gaze unsettled the old man.

"Why do you do that, Doan?" Cain asked, shifting in his seat. Doan blinked.

"Do what?" Cain frowned.

"Stare. It's eerie as all hell…"

"So?" Doan retorted, still staring. "I'm the Ghost Wind…or I was before I joined."

Cain wrinkled up his nose.

"Why do you name yourselves after such crazy things? The Ghost Wind? The Desert Fire? The Crimson Hunter? Even Wycost called himself Mean Green every now and then."

"Do you want to know why?" Doan said silently. Cain nodded.

"It's what I asked, isn't it?" Doan tapped the side of his arm.

"We're reploids. We aren't born with a family name like humans. As far as most people are concerned, we're nothing more than above average tin cans. We have to MAKE a name for ourself. Out there in the world, Cain…I walked the streets. I lived the life of a poor man." Doan stepped back a few steps, his voice growing a bit softer.

"A name like that gives us something we lack from our activation. A sense of being…pride in who we are. It gives us a little glimmer of hope to go on. Whether or not we call ourselves that, or other people call us that, it's the same thing. We've been given a NAME…and that means more than jack when you're a reploid."

Doan turned to face the door, then stopped and turned back around. He looked at Cain with a questioning gaze.

"You coming to join the party?" Cain waved his hand.

"In a minute…I have to compile the reports for databasing." Doan shrugged.

"Suit yourself." Doan slipped out quietly, leaving Cain to himself. 

The old man sat motionless for a few moments, then sighed and pulled a personal audio recorder from his desk.

It was the same one he had used before the First Uprising, when he had discovered X. It had served him well all these years.

"May 23. A little more than a year after Sigma's supposed demise at the end of the Fifth Uprising, he has turned up…It seems that he survived by joining with his only surviving Maverick General at the time, one that went by the name of Fluid Ferret. The details are finally coming into focus, as well. Over their long wait, Sigma and Ferret infected a group known as URFAWP, created by the wallets and moralistic goals of a reploid known as J.K. Horn. Their plans resulted in the pair of reploids called Allegro and Andante believing Horn was responsible. Sadly, they realized too late like the rest of us the horrific truth…and now I have learned that Andante was killed in Cairo, saving the life of his brother, Allegro."

Cain shifted about in his seat, turning to open his office window and look out at the night sky.

"Thankfully, the five pronged attack launched earlier today by Sigma across the globe was blunted. Many innocents, and many Hunters and others like Andante gave their lives to stop this menace…I can only hope their sacrifice was not in complete vain." He winced, feeling the pangs of pain well up in his head again. He reached into his desk for more aspirin.

"The aftershocks of this latest occurrence are immediate and all consuming. X is suffering from his own guilt at the loss of his Unit, and his inability to stop Sigma's return. He is flawed in that last belief, but nothing I say can sway him."

"Wycost returned to us infected. While he overcame it with an internal deletion, I was surprised to learn that it was not the first occurrence. At times, I wonder of the hunters are protecting each other too much…In any case, Wycost's role is uncertain. Not too many people here trust him greatly, and on the opposite end of the scale, many would like to skin his hide. About the only friends he has left here is Bastion and Doan…I've seen a remarkable decrease in his respect for X and Zero. His secrets are his own, and no one's talking."

"Hazil now has legs, instead of his wheel base which he came here with. Odd how he's kept that outdated tread system since the First Uprising, and only now after what some are calling Sigma's Sixth, he decided it was time for a change. In any case, his demeanor has improved because of it…if his demeanor can. Hazil possesses a genuine gruffishness I haven't been able to trace to any other reploid, yet at the same time he is a perfect medical provider, caring and seeing to the last details of cleanliness and health treatments. I'm due in for a full checkup in three weeks…He may have some answers about my constant headaches."

"J.K. Horn is perhaps the most destroyed of any because of this new strike. It was his organization that was torn asunder to suit Sigma's devious purposes, and it is that organization that has been completely dismantled by order of the GDC. I suppose that even the best well wishing can be usurped, under the right conditions. But it seems almost like they carved out URFAWP's heart and transplanted it into the Hunters. After all, the roles have changed. J.K. Horn once said he wished only to live in an age where Hunters were not needed, and there was no Sigma, no Maverick Virus, no ultimate threat to civilization." Cain's face lit up as his fingers traced the open air from star to star in his favorite constellation, Orion. 

"Undoubtedly there are others who I could mention…but I grow weary and tired. We have witnessed the rebirth of Hell this night. I wish only to pass away into blissful slumber and dream of Heaven." 

Cain clicked the recorder off. He quietly placed it back in his desk, and with his head pounding even with the Aspirin dose, he calmly reached out to grab his cane, leaning lightly against his desk. 

He got to his feet, and he noticed a decreased amount of spark in his step. He grimaced, and shook his head.

Old age was catching up with him. And when he was dead and gone, X, Zero, and the Hunters would still be fighting Sigma.

It was all such a terrible waste.

"Time to wake up and face the music, bub." Hazil grunted as he set Wycost's bed to shake him out of stasis. 

The green Hunter groaned for a few moments before he finally let his eyes shift open. He was still in full armor, he noticed. And from what he saw, Hazil had managed to buff out all the dents and dings…it seemed to take on a new luster of life.

Wycost lifted himself off the cot and blinked at his arm. After living with the scars of the Virus for more than a year, he found it hard to believe it had completely vanished. No jagged black line down his arm, and no surviving parts to the Virus's program.

He shifted his right hand into a Buster. The bulbous stump emerged, and he shifted through his abilities; they were still all in place. Strobe Flash, Narwhal Striker, and his Level four X-Buster charge.

"You did a real nasty number on that popgun of yours." Hazil grunted calmly. "I had to go in and reset some of the wiring. You must have overloaded the Matrix by using a new weapon so soon. Usually, you wait at least five minutes before pulling a stunt like that." Wycost shrugged.

"If I hadn't, Cairo would be flooded out to the Mediterranean. I had to use my new homing projectile to blast Narwhal's bombwork away from the dam." Hazil sighed.

"All right. I'll be sure to tell your mommy that when she calls here and asks why her little boy's almost dead." Wycost snorted.

"Don't bother. I'm heading out, bub." Hazil raised an eyebrow.

"Eh? Say again?" Wycost jumped down onto the floor, and activated his warp generator. He shifted his armor design back into data storage, and brought out another set of apparel.

In a flash of green light, Wycost was calmly standing, with his hands jammed in the pockets of a black leather jacket. A set of blue jeans covered his legs, and underneath the coat he wore a dark green T-Shirt.

His hair, short and ruffled up into spikes, seemed out of place on a reploid that was usually only seen with his helmet. And his eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses that was a perfect match for his sunglare goggles in his helmet.

They should have been. They were one and the same.

"Out, Hazil. Gone, never to return." Wycost's face was grim and quiet, decided with a firm jaw.

The Medical Reploid harrumphed for a moment, crossing his arms.

"I see…I suppose it has to do with the fact not a lot of people here have any faith in you?"

"Among other things." Wycost said quietly. He set his gaze so he was looking right in Hazil's eyes. "Hazil, I'm tired…I'm sick and tired of being nothing more than a destroyer of life. The Hunters, NYPD, it was all the same. I pointed, I clicked, I blew them away. I went home, I drank a beer, and tried to forget about it." 

Wycost shook his head.

"Eventually, you can't. And all the voices of the people you've killed come back to haunt you. I have to go someplace away from here, Hazil…get my head screwed on straight. And considering I never re-joined the Hunters, it's no big loss for anyone."

Hazil chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. Finally, he sat down in his chair and kicked his feet up on top of his desk.

"Well, at least tell Bastion you're going." Wycost grunted.

"I was just about to." Wycost turned around, and walked out the door. But his voice trailed off, and the Medical Officer could still hear him.

"Thanks for everything doc…You're a great guy." The door slid shut behind the ex-Hunter, and Hazil was left alone once more.

"And underneath it all, Wycost…" Hazil sighed, "So are you. Just don't lose who you are." Hazil stood up. This quiet was killing him.

Time to join the party.

Bastion's heavy soled boots made their usual clomping noise as he walked about the circular passageways of the Hunter base. His hair bounced off of the back of his head, and for once he was not happy, and not sad. Just at a midpoint.

The Mavericks were back. That was offset by the fact the GDC no longer had their guns pointed at them. 

J.K. Horn, the only person to survive Bastion's life as the Desert Fire in the Jihad had returned. Their hot rivalry had vanished in lieu of bigger events, and Horn had unknowingly helped to aid in the design of Bristol's gift to Bastion…the Angel's Advantage. Bastion's left hand reached behind him, lightly fingering the base housing still in place. He had kept it there, not wanting to waste time removing it right away. 

Wycost had also returned…but he was far different from the driven, devastating Hunter Bastion had known him as for a year. Wycost was now completely secluded, and he'd made it all too clear he would not be staying with the Hunters.

"He wanted to stop the killing." Bastion said calmly. "My spirit goes with him…"

He shook his head to drive back to more important thoughts.

"Bristol's room." Bastion said, standing in front of the door that led to her cabin. He keyed in his override command and slipped inside the door as it hissed open.

The room was pitch dark.

"Lights." Bastion said. The overhead lamp flickered on, casting a cool glow on the room, but not too bright. Bastion frowned.

She wasn't in here. Even more surprising, the place looked picked clean…

Bastion shrugged. 

"So she moved all her stuff to my room. I suppose that was the next logical step anyhow." He smiled. "Back to my place then."

It wasn't too far to his own quarters. The computer identified him and allowed him entry without complaint.

His room as well was pitch black. 

"Lights." Bastion said, a light tint of annoyance in his voice. When the lights came to, he had a similar sight.

No Bristol. He frowned and spoke up. 

"Computer?"

"Yes, Bastion?" 

"Trace Bristol's saber signature." It would locate Bristol's beam saber, and therefore her, anywhere within a two mile radius to a pinpoint location. The computer whirred for a moment, then chirped back on.

"Bristol is not in the Hunter compound." Bastion's eyes widened.

"No…that's not right. Computer, run self-diagnostic." Another fraction of a second as the computer performed the quick command.

"Scan complete. All systems are nominal. No errors detected." Bastion frowned. 

"That's not right…"

His door chittered. Someone was outside. "Enter!" Bastion said quickly, raising his head. Perhaps Bristol had lost her saber in Washington D.C…

"Hey, Bastion." It was Wycost. Bastion's eyes fell. The civilianized Wycost grunted, slightly miffed.

"Well, it's good to see you to." Bastion waved his hand.

"Aah, it's not that. I was looking for Bristol." Wycost shrugged.

"Happens." Bastion turned his attention full on to the green reploid that had been under his command in all the chaos of the late Fifth Uprising, up to his departure to URFAWP. Both sat down in the comfy padded seats nearby.

"So you're really going through with it then." Bastion said. "You're leaving the Hunters." Wycost nodded.

"I'm afraid so." Wycost flipped his glasses up. His eyes looked tired and ragged, like a beaten dog. "Only you and Doan have any respect for me anymore around here…and it's time I had a change." Bastion snorted.

"Then use a beam saber. We need you, Wycost! With Sigma's return, the Hunters need every able bodied warrior…" 

Wycost's fist slammed down on the desk beside him, and his eyes welled up in frustrated despair.

"Don't you think I know that, Bastion?" Wycost choked out. "I know that all too well. I brought the problem into focus for the Hunters again." Wycost's fist unclenched, and he wearily brought his hands together in a double fisted grip. He stared up at the ceiling. Bastion scratched his head, finally taking off his own helmet to let his hair fall completely free. 

"Why, then?" Bastion said. He fixated a gaze of true concern on the ex-Hunter and stared into his pooling eyes.

Green eyes. 

"What happened to you that's changed you so much, Wycost?" Bastion asked. 

Wycost shut his eyes for a moment as the horrific images began to pound into him. Of what he had faced…and what he had been forced to do to overcome it. 

"The best way to phrase it is HELL, Bastion." Wycost flickered his glasses down so his former leader wouldn't have to gaze on his tear filled eyes. He leaned back in his seat, his hands squeezing together in a vise as he relived the nightmare…

"When I fought the Virus, it had mutated, Bastion. It was worse…far worse. Its original form, nothing but a droning mass of blackness and wires and that never ending chant of the Maverick's three main goals, was something I had faced before." Wycost tilted his head back down, looking into Bastion's face. 

"It changed…" Wycost's voice grew quieter, and Bastion had to turn up his auditory sensors a tad to keep proper hearing. "It had mutated, gained a consciousness that was based partly on the ragged thoughts of Sigma and Fluid Ferret, but even more so by my own memories. It knew me, Bastion. And because it did, it knew how to face me."

"The Virus mutated. It gained a voice, a snide sinister tone of superiority. It taunted me, prodded me, tried to goad me into giving up. I faced that thing for an immeasurable period of time…And every time I came close to raising my Buster at it in the field of my mind, it shifted. Shifted into the form of one of my friends." Wycost shook his head, tightening his eyes behind his glasses. 

"It turned itself into you. Or Doan. Or the one guy that taught me how to live again in URFAWP…Isaiah. I couldn't shoot them…not while I still had other options." Wycost planted both feet firmly into the ground, his arms unwrapping and settling on the armrests of his chair.

"When Hazil began the reactivation procedures, all those options ceased to be. I knew then that no matter how weary I was, I had a duty to purge myself of the accursed Virus. If I failed to do that, others would be forced to destroy me…or they would be killed by my Maverick controlled body." 

"So I counterattacked. For the first time in days, I knew that no matter what, I had to defeat it. For my survival alone. I fired my Buster, wounding it. Then it kept changing into the forms of my friends…Isaiah. Doan. YOU." Wycost said menacingly, pointing. He shook his head. "I destroyed them all. There was nothing in focus but my own survival. And finally, the Virus…changed into me."

Bastion sat up a bit more alertly, his worried eyes betraying the surprise inside of him. 

"And that was what tore it. I could always shirk off killing the guises of my friends that it took…but not after the Virus faced me as myself. With all the sadistic pleasure that Virus could muster in its evolved form, it laughed in my face, and told me that I was no better than it was." Wycost raised a hand and pushed back his hair.

"I knew it was right. All my life, I'd created death. The same went for it. But I still killed it off…and now I have to answer for the shambles of existence I've lived in. That's why I'm leaving, Bastion…I'm so screwed up in my head because of that blasted Virus, I gotta get it all straightened out on my own time."

Wycost got up. "I'd best be shoving off then." Bastion sighed, and also picked himself from his seat. He extended a hand, and the two friends firmly shared a handshake. Bastion let out an easy breath.

"Care to help me find Bristol first? She must have lost her saber back in Washington D.C, because I can't trace her." Wycost shrugged.

"A mission of aid…that I can handle." As Wycost picked himself up, he took one final sweep of the room that was Bastion's.

He caught something out of the corner of his eye. A flash of white that seemed out of place in the well kept room, tucked nearby Bastion's desktop Vidphone. 

He walked over, quietly plucking it free. The blot of white was a letter…

With a flowing script handwriting on it that would cause Shakespeare to ponder his skills. Most surprising was what it said.

**To Bastion…**

"Hey…" Wycost spoke up softly. Bastion, already halfway out his door looked behind him.

"Yeah?" 

"I think I found something here." Wycost said. He calmly turned it over, noting that it was sealed with a sticker in the shape of…a heart? "This has gotta be from Bristol." Wycost muttered. He rolled his eyes at the sight and quickly extended it out to Bastion.

The Desert Hunter plucked the note from Wycost's hand and broke the seal. 

His dark blue eyes scanned the interior of the note with an exacting precision.

First, interest. Then, Wycost could see a sudden shift…to surprise. Bastion's mouth fell slightly open, and then his hands began to shake.

Finally, Bastion let out a sob. He stumbled back a few steps until the back of his knees connected with his bed. He dropped onto it without so much as a peep.

He only stared blankly, his eyes growing even deeper. Wycost could see tears welling up in the corners of Bastion's optics. 

"Hey Bastion…" Wycost said uneasily. "You all right?" Bastion's shaky hand lifted the letter up to his close friend, his face downcast like a beaten dog's. 

It was as if the great orange and reddish colored Hunter had suddenly shrunk ten sizes. As he spoke, it seemed like he was nothing more than a whisper in the wind.

"I'm not…I'll never…I've lost her, Wycost." Wycost's eyebrows went up. He picked the letter up, unfolded it completely and set to work reading it. Bastion sunk his head into his hands, his sniffling growing louder. Wycost shut out the outside noise and calmly examined the cursive script.

_My dearest Bastion…_

When you find this letter, I will be miles away. Don't worry about me, though… Horn was kind enough to provide me with money for this trip.

That's what it is, luv. A trip. And it has a reason…I'm out looking for my past. I thought I had managed to get past it, admit that there would forever be a dark void in my memory I'd never be able to shed a light on. 

But when I was in Washington D.C. Bastion, something happened I didn't expect. I regained my past…a small sliver of it, at least. A gentleman by the name of Emilius Cristoph died as I tried to save his life, and in his final breaths, he mentioned two names: Mine, and a thing called MI9.

A torrent of images accompanied that sudden bolt of light in the shadows, Bastion. I suppose I never lost the memories…only the connections to them were exiled. And now they're coming back…Slowly, Bastion, so slowly it's driving me mad.

I don't know what I'm chasing after, or exactly what I'm looking for. I have only a single lead in a world of dead ends. What I do know is I have to do this…if only to destroy the demons that have been dug up. Now that they've returned…as small as they are, I need to carry it out to the end. I must know it all. Knowing little will only consume me with a fire no one can cure. The only other option is to have my memory wiped…

But I could never do that, Bastion. That would mean losing you. And now that I've found love, I have no intention of letting it go. So now I wander the earth, searching for the answer to a riddle locked inside my skull, and that of the dead Emilius Cristoph. 

I hope that I will find the answers I seek in short order…if only so I can return to you a whole person. A person who knows her past, and can have a future…

With you, Bastion. It is my love for you that will keep me going on this escapade. That sole force represents so much in my life now, and I hope it has had the same effect on you.

But my time is short…I must leave here now. Being in the Maverick Hunter Headquarters any longer would be risking NOT doing this…and I must, Bastion. For my sanity, I must.

Keep me in your prayers, luv. If the great cosmic genesis wishes our union to be so, I shall return. But don't trust blindly in fate. 

Keep yourself alive. Only if you do that can there be a tomorrow. 

Always holding you in my heart,

Bristol.

Wycost put the letter down on Bastion's desk, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She left…" Bastion was sobbing into his arm now, trying uselessly to muffle his cries. Wycost shook his head.

"She said she'd be back, Bastion. That lady can more than take care of herself." Bastion lifted his head. His eyes were tearstreaked and glazed over with his intense emotional pain. 

"And what if she doesn't make it back? What happens if I lose her…Forever?" Bastion wiped his eyes on his arm. He bowed his head back down and waved his hand. "Please, Wycost…I need to be alone."

The New York reploid calmly nodded his head, his icy eyes hidden by his glasses.

"Keep yourself alive, Bastion." Wycost said, echoing Bristol's last words. 

Bastion's final vestiges of composure completely vanished as Wycost said that. 

Wycost quickly slipped out of the room, making sure that Bastion's breakdown didn't assault the rest of the HQ. He shook his head as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to make the long trek to the front door…his exit…of the Hunters.

"Time to make a fresh start." Wycost muttered to himself. "I have a huge penance to pay for my life…"

He froze in midstep. Flipping his glasses up, he blinked several times before finally nodding. "That's it!" He said in surprise. He flipped his glasses back down and resumed his walk.

At last, he had pegged what his penance…his reparations for a life based solely on destruction would be.

He had to smile.

It was a goal that would have made Isaiah proud.

The Maverick Hunters were all gathered about in the Cafeteria now, and even X and Zero were there.

Someone had to keep them in line. 

The punchbowl was already empty, and the strobe lights that had been flickering crazily in the semi-lit room had been shot out by a Buster.

Zero's. 

Gavin, Jad and Kol had rediscovered the long lost beer limbo stick of the Hunters, left unused since before the First Maverick Uprising. And they were putting it to good use, as everyone made a trip through the line. It was set so low, everyone got a thorough dunking. Of course, that's why it was there. So they could make fools of themselves and still blow away their woes. 

Zero casually swirled his glass of rum around in his gloved hand, then tilted his head and gulped the contents. X shook his head and only sipped his. 

"You gonna be all right, X?" Zero asked, his eyes somewhat blazed by the liquor, but not too much. X nodded, a quiet gaze of discontentment his only feature.

"Aah, yeah. I just have to get used again to the reality that Sigma's alive and well, with more than enough power to keep us on our toes for another twenty years…or more." Zero slammed his glass down and nodded.

"Hey, you still got your armor sets. Besides, you've told me that whenever the situation gets serious enough, more capsules pop up outta nowhere to help you. So what's the worry?" X gave a sidewards grimace.

"The armor data can't last forever, you know. Eventually, the older sets will degrade." 

"Can't you preserve them?" Zero asked in shock. X shook his head.

"Afraid not. Light was thorough…the Armor sets seem only to last in their perfect form for a set number of years. I guess that was part of his hope I could be more than a warrior. Maybe he thought that over time, the need for them would be decreased." Zero raised a hand.

"All right, all right. I get the drift. So lemme get this straight. Over time, you'll completely lose all your armor?" X nodded, his head growing weary.

"Yeah. Unless I find some more capsules, or someone can take the armor designs and create a more permanent version for me." Zero grinned and wrapped an arm around X's shoulder.

"Well, doncha worry your pretty little head off then. I'll save your ass like I always do until you find your new supersuits. It's the way of things, you know. Sigma starts a new revolt, you run around like a chicken with your head cut off, looking for armor parts, whilst I stave off the main threat." X raised his glass.

"Amen to that, brother." 

Aside from the leaders of the Hunters, there were other occurences in the Cafeteria an observer might pick up on.

One was Allegro, tucked into a corner, his head laid on his arm as he slumped against a table. Sitting all alone, he was nothing more than a drone pondering his fate.

The death of Andante had shattered him completely. His fast paced attitude, his grufish edges, his snide comments had all faded.

It was those traits that had gotten his brother killed. 

"All my fault…" Allegro whispered hoarsely to himself. "It was all my fault…" 

Footsteps approached him. Allegro didn't lift his head until he heard the voice. 

"Hello, Allegro." The somber reploid lifted his head up. He knew who it was.

His past mentor, J.K. Horn. The aged reploid pushed back his gray hair, and Allegro noticed that his hawaiian T-Shirt was missing.

Horn had adopted a more formal lab coat. Allegro blinked and pointed.

"What's that for?" Horn shrugged, clicking his teeth together.

"The GDC just issued the order to disband URFAWP. After what Sigma did to it, I can't say I'm too opposed. So what's this for? I need something to occupy my time, and helping out the Hunters seems like the best way around it." Allegro blinked, still only half paying attention.

"I thought you disliked the Hunters." Horn nodded, his eyes narrowing.

"I do. URFAWP was designed to create a world in which the Hunters were no longer necessary. With no Maverick Virus, that role could have easily become reality. But now that Sigma has returned…" Horn shook his head. "Well, all the bets are off. I still want to work for the goals I founded URFAWP on; World peace and acceptable human/reploid relations. I just have to use a different way to reach it. But to accomplish those, that means putting an end to Sigma for good. And before I founded URFAWP, I made my living designing weapons."

"For the Global Military." Allegro snuffed. Horn guffawed.

"Sorry, that was the coverup. I actually made them for the Israelis, believe it or not." Allegro smiled weakly.

"What fun." Horn stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking down for a moment.

"So, I came here for two reasons, Allegro. One was to see that you're still feeling alive. To some degree, you are." Allegro shut his eyes, chuckling weakly.

"Am I? Am I truly all right? My brother DIED because of me, Horn." Horn's eyes dimmed and he shrugged.

"Yes. But Allegro did that for a reason. He suspected there was something in you that needed to be allowed to be brought out."

"What?"

"Him, of course." Allegro blinked, looking up in surprise. Horn laughed.

"What, you haven't noticed? There's been a change in you, Allegro. You've become more like him than you would realize. While your fire has not completely gone out, it has been focused, surrounded. Andante provided the campground for your marshmallow roast, as it were. And now you have both." Horn nodded. "I could sense something in the both of you when you first joined. That was your bond…and even though it's ripping you up inside to have lost him, you'll survive. The both of you were survivors." Allegro's face gave into dismay.

"But why did it have to be him? Why not me?" Horn shrugged.

"I wasn't there, so I can't provide the answer. But I can provide a pathway for you." Horn sat down across from Allegro looking into his eyes. "Tell me, now that URFAWP's belly up, what are you going to do with your life?" Allegro curled his mouth up into a frown.

"I hadn't thought of anything yet. I'll probably just wander for a few years." Horn clapped his hands together.

"That's probably not the healthiest choice…but I do have another option for you." Allegro looked up, somewhat interested now. 

"Yeah?" Horn smiled broadly and put his hands on the table.

"I told you I was going to be making weaponry for the Hunters, correct?" Allegro nodded. "Well, I'm gonna need a helper…eventually, several if things pick up. For now though, I need someone I can trust, someone I know. And you're it, my dear Allegro. Besides, Andante told you one thing; keep the world safe. If you join me in this goal, you'll be fulfilling it."

Allegro pondered over it for several moments, finally awakening himself completely. He looked up at Horn, his eyes somewhat surprised.

"After we tried to kill you, you'll still provide me with this offer?" Horn nodded, smiling again.

"You were trying to kill me because you thought I was responsible for the Maverick Virus infecting URFAWP. Once that was proved wrong, the both of you felt as guilty as Hell…and I forgive easily." Horn cracked his knuckles and extended his hand. "So, whaddya say? You interested in helping an aging reploid with his world saving science experiments?" 

Allegro set his jaw and thought hard for a few moments. Finally, he nodded, and reached out to shake Horn's hand.

"What the Hell. All right Doc, I'm with ya." Horn laughed.

"Please, use my first name. Julius."

"Jules, eh?" Allegro mused. "All right Jules. Now what?" Horn sighed, scratching his head.

"Order another round, I guess. I have some preliminary designs here…wanna take a look at 'em?" Allegro smiled back.

"Why not?"

Mentor and student had finally forgiven each other.

For them at least, the future seemed bright.

Far away from the party in the main area of the MHHQ, a few had chosen to remain in solitude. Some, like Bastion, were suffering. Others like Doan, were merely lone rocks in the wind. He sat on the side of his bed, quietly pondering the most recent events.

Doan's private phone silently chirped into life, signaling he had a call. Doan lifted his head from his chest and frowned at it. It was three in the morning.Who in their right mind would call at this hour?...

Doan picked it up anyway.

"Hello?" Doan waited. Finally, a grunting reply.

"Nice to hear you again."

"Wycost." Doan said softly. He turned, still holding the receiver to his head. "Where are you?"

"Someplace far away..." In truth, Wycost was right outside the HQ, using a phone booth to reach his old friend.

"Why did you leave, Wycost?" Doan asked, his voice just a tinge sad. Wycost sighed. 

"You know why, Doan. More than anyone now. You saw what I've been through."

"About as much as I have, but I'm still here."

"You've never been infected." Wycost snapped tersely. Doan cringed. 

"Good point." Wycost was silent. He spoke up again.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you." Doan shrugged.

"You've been through a lot, Wycost. So when are you coming back?" Wycost paused again. He breathed through his nose.

"Maybe never." Doan raised his eyebrows.

"That seems a little severe."

"Not for what I need to accomplish, my friend." Wycost said sadly.

"There's a lot of stuff I need to sort out in my head." Doan chuckled a bit.

"Tell me about it. You nearly turned me schizoid."

Wycost paused. Doan fell silent, realizing he'd hit a nerve.

"Wycost?"

"Yes?"

"Is there any way I can help you?" Wycost was silent at the question for a moment...a long moment, in which both reploids pondered the unknown. Finally, Wycost grunted.

"Keep yourself alive, Doan. That's the best thing you can do for me. I've lost too many friends to those mavericks already." Doan nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind. Do you want me to relay any messages?" Wycost clicked his teeth together.

"Just one. It's for Bastion..." Doan perked his ears up.

"I'm listening." Wycost laughed just a bit, sadly and with a depth he hadn't used since Isaiah had left his life.

"Tell Bastion that I'll be wandering around." Doan waited, and sure enough, Wycost continued.

"If he's so upset about Bristol picking herself up and leaving, tell him I'm out there. I consider it a part of my penance now. If I find Bristol..." Wycost chirped his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

"Tell him, if I find Bristol, I'll keep her safe." Doan was just about to reply, but the phone connection went dead at that moment.

Doan waited a few more moments, then put the phone back on the hook. He had kept a single image from Wycost's mind in his memory.

Doan turned to look out his window.

Sure enough, there he was.

Doan smiled, just a twinge at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh...And Wycost, I forgot to tell you something." Doan spoke softly, almost as if Wycost could hear him from such a far distance.

The green reploid turned away from the phone booth on the street corner, then tucked his hands into his black leather jacket pockets. Wycost slowly walked away.

Doan ran his right hand down the window, nodding his head.

"You keep yourself alive as well."


	19. Epilogue

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

**__**

MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS

By Erico

EPILOGUE

"Flight 2455 to Chicago O'Hare International is now boarding…" Droned the feminine computer voice. The mumbling masses of people pushed their way about the Tokyo International Airport, none of them really paying attention to the others as they walked along. 

It was that anonymity that one person in particular found relief in. No one stopped and stared, and the few glances she received were only to confirm that other people would not run into her.

She traveled light…she had rarely needed many things in her life.

What she remembered, anyway. 

She smiled somewhat, thinking that in the fateful First Maverick Uprising years ago, this airport had been the target of a Maverick General called Storm Eagle. Times had changed. The hallways were filled to the brim, noisy and impersonal.

The woman tucked her hands back into the pockets of her long blue coat. It was light and airy, yet still was composed of materials that could hold in body heat in extreme cold. Her wandering fingers quickly found an object in her coat pocket, one that seemed to restore warmth and clarity to her muddled mind. She held onto it tightly.

She seemed to walk in a daze as she approached her plane's gate. The metal detector had been of some surprise, but once she revealed she was with the Maverick Hunters and a reploid…the guards let her pass. If anything, Tokyo was a little more open and unbiased about reploids. She had to admit that was one thing she would miss.

"Tickets, please." The female reploid looked up from her downcast gaze, brushing back a few strands of flaxen hair that had fallen out from her coat's hood and pushed themselves over her eyes. A uniformed flight attendant managed a weak smile and held out her hand.

The blue coated reploid dug into her other pocket and calmly removed her ticket…one way, paid in full from the account card of Julius Kinnian Horn.

That man…indeed, he was a reploid she felt comfortable calling a man…was generous as he was amiable and flighty. She would repay him some day for his gift. 

The attendant checked the ticket with dulled eyes, probably because of a long shift, then smiled weakly again and handed it back. Bowing over in a traditional Japanese fashion, she gave out another blah statement.

"Thank you for flying Tokyo Air." The reploid smiled back, then placing the ticket back in her coat pocket, calmly walked down the tunnel in front of her and boarded the plane.

She had been assured to have both seats to herself on this flight. She needed a lot of time to think, and the trip to Chicago would clear it up somewhat.

At least her first location was confirmed. Denver, Colorado in the United States. It was there that Bastion, Zero, and their joint Strike Unit had found her. If there was any answers to be found, she would have to start there. 

Finally, she found her seat. Falling back into it with no effort of grace, she shut her eyes for a moment before peering out the window. 

All of Tokyo fell under her gaze, bright as a gem in the night sky with its dazzling flourescents. A tinge of sadness and remorse flowed through her.

Of what she was leaving behind for this crazy journey. Still, it was a journey she had to take. 

Her left hand found the weighty object in her pocket again. This time, she fished it out.

It was a fine pure silver locket, with gold trim. It was a small oval with a simple clicking hinge. She snapped it open. Inside was a picture…

Of Bastion. Her love. 

Bristol shut her eyes to try and stop the tears that threatened to fall into her lap, clutching the locket against her chest.

"Bastion…" She whispered softly. The mention of his name, and this locket would keep her going more than anything. She had to return to him.

Perhaps that was what made the most difference for Bristol. 

"Please…wait for me." Bristol said in a shuddering ragged breath. Finally, she opened her eyes and shut the locket, placing it back in her pocket.

She leaned back against her seat, extending the headrest and reclining it slightly.

The night outside soon swallowed her, leaving Bristol in stasis mode for the next hour.

But she dreamed…

Dreamed of her glitched past…

But more so of her future. Hand in hand, dressed in a slim white gown of silk…

Walking down a long aisle. With Bastion.

It was a good dream.

And a good person deserved those.

The curtain falls once more on the heroes of 21XX. And in the short timespan of a month, everything has changed. The rules, the players, and the teams.

Assumptions long held to be truths have crumbled as new world events shape the future to come, and the beliefs of the past.

Were the Mavericks truly defeated in the Fifth Uprising? Perhaps. It was only the incredible luck and ruthlessness of one Maverick that saved the horrific revolution from forever being destroyed.

But was it for the best? What if the Mavericks truly HAD been put out of the limelight? What if there was nothing but The Maverick Hunters, URFAWP, and the GDC with its ruthless anti-reploid member Emilius Cristoph? 

History would have changed. The Hunters would be considered Mavericks themselves for standing up against the blatant injustice of Cristoph's Ultimatum, and perhaps all reploids on earth would be destroyed.

The age of robots might have ended…save for the Mavericks. 

Perhaps they're a counterbalance, in a way. Checks and equalizers always exists. Protons, electrons, light and dark, black and white…good and evil.

Without one side, the other crumbles. 

But one way or another, drastic change has befallen the world players. Sigma lurks somewhere in one of his hidden bases, clacking his metallic fingers together and hatching a new plot. Cristoph is dead, victim at last to a Maverick Rebellion. Wycost and Bristol wander the earth, her for her past, and he for her, and a penance he must pay.

The figureheads remain in place. The chessboard is redrawn, and only the knights and rooks have taken leave in some way or another.

But where did it all begin? One month ago? One year ago? Or even before that?

It began with assumptions, and it shall end because of assumptions.

Assumptions about power. About life. About fate.

But as far as the Hunters, the main performing group in the epic play before the audience are concerned, their assumptions are a bit more localized.

They concern Mavericks. What form the Virus takes. What a Maverick looks like. Assumptions that have all been proven wrong…

Especially with one detail, one that resounds throughout the world like a giant tuning fork in a room of glass. That assumption has been proven wrong, and now the entire world must pay for it.

For you see…that assumption…

Was The Sound of Mavericks. 

END


End file.
